Bait & Switch
by La Penserosa
Summary: Spencer Reid is a young FBI profiler tasked with interviewing Christopher Keller, a Death Row inmate with many secrets and a very dangerous appetite. Crossover with Oz. M for violence, sex, and language. Please R&R
1. The Politics of the Lure

**Warnings & Disclaimers & Things You May Want to Know:**

**Things You May Want to Know:**

**Reviews:** We writers live on them, right? Please feed the writers. Praise, pondering, and constructive criticism are all very, very welcome!

**Errors: **If you notice some glaring errors please send me a private message rather than leaving your corrections on the review board. Your feedback is appreciated and I will do my best to make the corrections as soon as they come to light.

**Continuity, spoilers, and crossover contamination (LOL): **I've come to love and admire both fandoms and generally, throwing Reid and Keller in a room together just seemed too hot an idea to pass up. However, it seems that there isn't a great deal of crossover when it comes to fans so to make things a little easier on everyone, I will introduce each character and give background as if the reader was unfamiliar. If you're familiar, I suppose you can skip it.

Regarding spoilers, I will be working with all material for each series which means you're likely going to find out who dies, who screws over whom, and plot points that would otherwise be suspenseful reveals.

As I write this I have no idea how the story will end or how I will reconcile the original series ending of Oz, suffice to say it will be much different.

**The Disclaimers:**

I do not own Criminal Minds or the characters related to the show but many thanks to their creators for letting us borrow them on their off time for some fun and games.

I do not own Oz nor the characters related to the show. Tom Fontana and his cast of players are geniuses and this work is meant to express my appreciation for the incredible writing and acting that went into the show.

**The Warnings:**

**Rated M for Violence: **The first few chapters of this story will be pretty gentle as far as descriptions of violence go but as we get deeper into the story things are bound to get bloody or at least very descriptive of past, and potential, violence. I will warn at the beginning of the specific chapter when we begin picking up steam.

**Rated M for Sex/Sexuality:** This story will be SLASH at some point, if only for its heated and graphic suggestions. If a particular chapter seems like it needs a strong warning it will be noted at the beginning of that chapter. Let's face it though, are there really that many people who seek out fan fiction that isn't sexualized? Or maybe I'm just projecting.

**Politics: **This story will deal with politics, attitudes regarding capital punishment, and the actually process itself. Oz was not only a loaded with in-your-face violence, it also wielded its views on the criminal 'justice' system like a well-sharpened shank. I would be remiss if I did not incorporate that along with the characteristic sex and violence that comes with Oz.

**And now that I've badgered you with enough caveats and conditions – happy reading!**

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><p>Aaron Hotchner stood at the head of a long mahogany conference table. Aaron, or Hotch as he was often called, was the Unit Chief for the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit (BAU). The BAU served as a mobile wing of the FBI that traveled on a moment's notice to provide aid and consultation to local law enforcement officials that found themselves in the midst of any number of criminal situations in which psychological evaluation, or profiling, of the perpetrator, or their victims, would be of use. Hotch had been with the BAU through countless such crises and in a way relished when he, and his team, could concentration on the research and analysis portion of their jobs. However, thanks to the current political climate and some uncooperative prison officials, even the simplest of tasks was proving to be a bit of a challenge.<p>

"I'm sorry," Hotch began rather unusually, as he stood before his team of FBI agents, "this week we will all be traveling on separate assignments."

Enter JJ, or Jennifer Jareau, a tall blonde woman that, despite her lofty D.C. position still exuded a certain amount of small town kindness and charm. JJ's position inside the BAU was that of Communications Liaison, which encompassed everything from media wrangling to the screening of potential cases for the rest of the team. Today, just as with most others, JJ was clutching a stack of case files which she efficiently distributed to each member of the team – a total of fifteen files.

Agent Derek Morgan leafed through the first folder barely containing his disgust. "Wait, Hotch these cases are clo..oh, no."

Derek Morgan, in most instances, served as the more outspoken of the team. Derek had come from a local law enforcement background and had grown up in impoverished urban center city. For the BAU, Agent Morgan was that essential combination of brash and astute assessment skills and the physical muscle to aid in all field operations. With his intelligence, physical prowess, perfect dark skin, and model good-look, Derek also had little trouble filling his personal life when the Bureau allowed for one.

"Oh yes, my lovely," Garcia said as she took to the front of the room to stand next to Hotch. In an instant, Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst of the BAU, pulled up several photos of well-groomed politicians.

Penelope Garcia stood out like sore thumb in the sea of beige and navy blue that was the FBI, and that is just how she liked it! Penelope was constantly stretching the constraints of the liberal dress code that was afforded to analysts who spent no time in the public eye. When it came to appearances she and JJ were like polar opposites. Garcia had grown up in San Francisco, California and everything about her seemed like a proud representation of her roots. Penelope's hair color was in constant flux, though this week it was a deep crimson, and her clothing and accessory choices fell in line with the tone set by her locks. Garcia's effervescent personality, not mention her frequently changing vibrant color, and her savant-level technology skills made her an asset to the BAU which was all too often awash in bloody crime scene photos and grizzled local law enforcement.

"As I am sure you're all aware, we are quickly approaching mid-term elections, which means that each politician is in the throes of perking up their voter appeal, these three are no exception."

The faces of the three well-groomed men were quickly replaced on screen with fifteen ruddy mugshots. "To encourage their Conservative constituents to come out and vote, each of the formerly pictured governors has promised to empty their state's Death Row before they leave office. This means we have exactly two weeks to meet, interview, poke, prod, and study these men before they…"Penelope looked around for a suitable phrase before letting out a long sigh, "Well, so far Governor James Devlin is the only one seeing minimal resistance from his state's court system. The facility in his jurisdiction, the Oswald State Correctional Facility, houses three of the fifteen men on this list. Correction, housed, three of the men, two of the men were executed before this information reached our desk."

Hotch looked down at the files in his hands in frustration trying to maintain the dark inscrutability that had become his trademark. Governor Devlin had thumbed his nose at Federal authorities many times in the past and the Oswald facility was teetering on the edge of Federal intervention due to its poor conditions and the extraordinarily high mortality and crime rate inside the facility.

"Each of you can see JJ for your transportation arrangements. Reid, if you could follow me to my office," Hotch gestured to the stairs.

Dr. Spencer Reid picked up the single file in front of him and followed Hotch to his office.

Each member of the BAU was an anomaly in their own way; Derek, Penelope, and JJ for their unconventional backgrounds, Hotch for his extraordinary insight and analysis ability, and Reid for seemingly inhuman intelligence. Reid had been recruited by the FBI, and subsequently the BAU, in his late teens. Spencer had attained several post-graduate degrees which was made possible by, aside from his IQ, his ability to read and comprehend lengthy texts in what seemed moments. At twenty-eight years old, Reid was the FBI's intellectual equivalent of an endowment – guaranteed to grow and provide for years and years to come. Reid had grown and matured since entering the BAU, the shy kid that many had posited may be afflicted with Asperger's Syndrome, had grown into self-assured, yet still slightly awkward, young man. Reid had cut his shoulder-length dark blonde hair in favor of a short, more modern haircut. Reid's clothes, even though they had not updated in style, had become tailored and no longer looked like he'd fished them out of the dryer a day after it'd stopped. With Reid's impeccable smarts, lithe build, and striking bone-structure it was not a stretch to imagine that the FBI would soon look to put him front and center for public consumption - standing next to beach-blonde JJ at a press conference spouting statistics.

Once Reid had closed the door to Hotch's office and taken a seat, Hotch began to speak, "You're going to be conducting your interviews at Oswald alone."

Reid nodded. This wasn't his first intake interview nor was it his first time in a maximum security facility. Spencer Reid was still ill-at-ease with the idea of sitting across the table from a serial murderer but whether it was an interrogation room in Oswald or Quantico it didn't really matter.

"This isn't why I'm in your office though, is it?"

"Take a look at the file," Hotch said gesturing to the folder on Reid's lap.

Reid flipped it open, and after a minutes of examination, he felt the color drain from his face. "You want me to get the details of his unsolved murders," Reid swallowed as he looked down at the grainy photo of the man in question, "I understand why I am going alone."

"An Agent Taylor has been conducting periodic interviews with the subject, and those incarcerated with him, but every lead has come up cold." Hotch wanted to add that he wasn't surprised in the least. Taylor was about as subtle a slap upside the head and was no wonder that he'd failed to gain a confession, or ensure the survival of potential witnesses.

"Why does Taylor suspect our subject for these unsolved murders?"

The ever-present lines on Hotch's forehead deepened as he considered the answer and Taylor's justification. "No matter our findings, it is very likely that this man will see his life end in a short matter of days. You're not going to surmise guilt or innocence, Reid, this is an intake interview just like all of the rest." Hotch tried to banish the dower look on his brow as he gave Reid these next assurances, "You know that with the time constraints that a great deal of those we interview will be more, uh, forthcoming with their activities before incarceration. Your subject, given his background, will probably be the most likely to sell you a story in hopes of delaying his fate. I don't need to tell you're there to gather research and analysis not to cut deals or solve cases. If you do uncover information that you feel has some validity, I will pass it on to," Hotch fought to keep the disgust from his voice, "Agent Taylor."

Spencer nodded receptively. Both Reid and Hotch knew that Taylor, or any other of the preening alpha-male agents, would get absolutely nowhere with the interview subject. He would respond quite well, they hoped, to an attractive novice and there was no role that Reid played better than a fish out of water.

Hotch told himself that it was part of the job, that Spencer knew what he was getting himself into, and that as a profiler these kinds of tactics were necessary, if not essential to the trade.

"The warden will have an interview space ready for you when you arrive for your first meeting." Hotch said, closing the file and standing up from behind his desk.

Reid nodded, stood, and headed to exit Hotchner's office. Before Reid was all the way out the door, Hotch spoke again, "Reid, the interview will be the easy part, navigating the less than cooperative prison staff will be the difficult part. If you come up against any serious walls," Hotch gestured to the phone on his desk, "JJ and I will both be in the office."

Dr. Reid nodded.

First, Reid would have to get his transportation and security information from JJ and then he was off to the Oswald for his first in a series of interviews with the serial murderer and con artist, Christopher Keller.


	2. Can of Worms

There was something about the loud clang of locking metal at Dr. Spencer Reid's back that caused him to bristle.

Reid took a deep breath and tried to relax his hold on the strap of his messenger bag that crossed over his body. The hallways of the Oswald facility were dark, damp, and yet everything smelled strongly of disinfectant, or more pointedly, bleach. Reid tried to breathe calmly as he walked toward the first guard in the short series that lined the hallway.

Reid used each of the guards faces like light posts on a dark street. He didn't look around or attempt to notice his surroundings. When Reid reached the end of the hallway he arrived at a glass-windowed door marked 'Psychiatric Evaluation' in bold block letters. The blonde wood door was a welcomed sight to Dr. Spencer Reid and so was the kind-faced woman sitting behind the desk.

Sr. Peter Marie is a small woman, just a few inches over five feet tall. Her clothes are simple a suited to her profession; khaki pants, a gray ribbed top, and a black wool button-sweater. Her salt and pepper hair is cropped short and is a cluttered mass of tight curls. For a moment, Reid can imagine her as a young woman and wonders if she's always been Sister Peter Marie and always in Oz.

Sr. Peter Marie already had Christopher Keller's file open on her desk. Reid immediately noticed the photograph; the same grainy likeness that accompanied his file, even the quality of the photo could not obscure that menacing stare and the piercing blue eyes. Christopher Keller, the consummate showman, seemed to know the audience his photograph would reach and adjusted his demeanor accordingly.

"Dr. Spencer Reid," Sr. Peter Marie rises from her chair and shakes Reid's hand, her grip firm and her demeanor welcoming. "I'm glad that you're here."

"Thank you, Sr. Peter Marie. I understand that you saw Christopher Keller on a semi-regular basis when he was housed in," Reid hesitated as the name felt awkward on his tongue, "Emerald City?"

Sr. Pete nodded in affirmative. "Keller was assigned to Tim McManus's experimental unit when he arrived in Oz. Tim believed, still does believe, that by encouraging interactions, different developmental opportunities, and other cognitive stimulation, that violence will decrease and open up the possibility of rehabilitation. Two of the inmates in Tim's unit have been published and so far ten inmates have received their high school equivalencies. However, Emerald City, for its successes, has also born a great deal of violence." Pete looked down at the file on her desk, "and Chris Keller contributed his fair share to those statistics."

Reid looked down at his folder, hesitating on Keller's face for a moment, before quickly closing the file.

"So Dr. Reid, you're on assignment from the FBI?" She asked in that tone that seemed to indicate the opening of a session.

"Yes, I'm part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, these intake interviews are part of a growing database kept by the FBI to better understand the trends in pathology amongst," Reid hesitated again, unsure if he should mention the unsolved cases.

"I understand, Dr. Reid." Sr. Pete said rising from her chair. "I've arranged for the first session of your interview to take place in one of our meeting rooms. I will be there to aid in rapport-building or assisting you with any information that you may need but for the first session only. I understand that you'll want time with Keller that isn't obscured by our prior interactions – your remaining meetings will be without my presence."

Reid stood, nodding in affirmative. Reid knew that he should protest her assistance but, after combing the file twice again after leaving Hotch's office, Reid truly did not know what to expect.

When Sr. Pete and Reid arrived in the meeting room, Reid observed an empty gray room with darker gray carpeting and three chairs placed in a half-circle in the middle of the room. The meeting room resembled a fishbowl with large windows along each wall with matching gray blinds, that were down part way and closed, but this did not obscure the view into the room from the outside.

St. Pete took the chair between the two empty chairs that faced each other and Reid sat in the chair that faced the door. Pete sat quietly, feigning interest in the notepad she'd brought with her to the session. Reid sat watching the large windows waiting for someone to pass by – to catch the first glimpse of Christopher Keller.

It felt like hours that Reid had waited; watching the gray walls outside of the meeting room and the other correctional officers standing dutifully outside and along the hallway beyond the window. Reid wondered, just for a moment, what the area Keller had been held in looked like. This wasn't Reid's first Death Row intake interview, he had to remind himself; the disturbing sterility, the constant supervision, the complete obliteration of privacy or discretion – these things were not unfamiliar to Dr. Reid. Maybe this was the reason why the first slam of the metal gate upon his entrance disturbed him so.

Reid looked through his file again. He knew the words instantly but seeing the words in print, under his finger tips, brought the reality home. How many men had felt their lives slip away in the gaze of those icy blue eyes?

That thought was punctuated by a shrill buzzer that brought Reid to attention. Shortly after, the sound of heavy footfalls could be heard approaching the meeting room.

Reid's stomach tensed as Christopher Keller rounded the corner – it was as if those eyes rounded the corner before the rest of Keller had and instantly locked with Reid. The guard had Keller by his elbow and was jerking Keller along the hall and into the meeting room with Sr. Pete and Dr. Reid.

"You can remove the cuffs, Officer, they're not necessary." Reid said looking at the guard who was already halfway out the door.

Chris's face lit up as his lips curled back to reveal a knowing Cheshire cat grin, eyes still fixed on Reid. The guard yanked Chris by his elbow, turning his partially away from Reid so that the handcuffs could be unlocked and removed.

"Gee, Pete, time for my last meal already?" Keller's voice was genial with a hint of mock-innocence, even though he never broke eye contact with Reid.

"Keller, sit down, please." Sr. Peter Marie said nonplussed by his behavior.

Keller made a show of rubbing his wrists were the cuffs had been, all the while sizing Reid up, looking over each detail of Reid; from his brown loafers up to his artfully disheveled short hair and back down.

"Chris," Pete drug out until he turned to meet her eyes. "This is Agent Reid from the FBI. He's here to interview you for their research on serial criminals and murderers and since..." Sr. Pete fumbled for the right words but did not wait long before Chris turned to her with a slightly more sincere smile.

"And since my days are numbered," He said with that Cheshire cat grin returning to his lips as he turned his gaze back to Reid. "He's here in a hurry before they flip the switch, isn't that right, Agent Reid?"

"Dr. Reid," He said staring back at Keller, matching his disingenuous tone, "and yes, as you so delicately put it, that is why I am here."

Chris put his elbow on the wooden arm of the gray padded chair and rested his cheek on the open palm of his hand, feigning the position of an enraptured student listening intently to a lecture. "Is that what you'd prefer, doc-ter?" Chris drew out Reid's credential in a sing-song voice while looking wide-eyed at Reid.

Then Keller's persona shifted, he caught Reid's eyes, and looked down his nose at Reid, "Would you prefer that I be delicate, with you?"

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><p><strong>AN: I'm so very encouraged to see that this idea has garnered some readership! Now you can't all be lurkers, can you? I'd love to know what you think. Are you fans of both shows? How are you feeling about the character development? Suggestions? Okay, now I'm just begging but I'd love to know what you think.**


	3. Fish Out of Water

Reid cleared his throat and fought the urge to shift in his chair. Keller sat back in his seat looking pleased with himself.

In their moments of silence, Reid took the opportunity to size up Keller. When Chris stood in front of Reid earlier they appeared to be around the same height but the physical similarities stopped there. Keller was a tall mass of lean muscle and strength. To Reid, Keller's seemingly obsessive attention to physical fitness only stood to reason since what else would Chris have to fill his time other than working out? Reid did his best not to consider the other options for filling Chris's time the details of which were all in that file folder on his lap. Keller's file indicated his age but Reid was surprised at the lack of wear on the man's visage considering all of the altercations and drugs that had come in contact with him over the years. The only thing that betrayed Keller's youthful appearance was thinning of his brown hair that he kept cropped close and neat.

Keller was attired in gray cargo-type pants and a blue waffle-knit thermal that fit more like a second skin than a shirt. Momentarily, Reid found his gaze lingering on Chris's arms, lost in the details of the unsolved murders. The second young man, just a year or two younger than Reid, had died from suffocation as a result of the fracturing of the C2 vertebrae. Reid took a deep breath. Yes, Reid thought, in laymen's terms, Keller had attempted to break the man's neck and in the process ruptured his windpipe resulting in a slow and agonizing death, like a fish gasping and retching to be thrown back into the water.

Keller's arm twitched and flexed, Keller knew he was staring. Reid was brought out of his thoughts, coming to realize that he'd been staring at Chris as he was lost in reflection of the unsolved cases.

Reid cleared his throat again and straightened in his chair. "I'm interested in more of the why than the how of things, so as long as you're honest, you're free to phrase things however you like."

Chris's eyes narrowed as his face broke out in another disingenuous grin. "I'll tell you whatever you'd like to know, Dr. Reid," Chris leaned forward, "and maybe you can tell me a few things, like who you pissed off to get this assignment, ya know? Since now you've cleared up that you're not an intern and all, doctor."

"Chris…"Sr. Pete began to interject but Reid spoke before she could correct him.

"Not so much pissed off as over-worked," Reid said, mirroring Chris's frankness."The Behavioral Analysis Unit is actively compiling a database of offender pathologies. Normally, we would have a span of several months to conduct this intake but because of the political grandstanding by Governor Devlin…"

"So that cocksucker is making people miserable from the ground up, huh?" Keller interjected, reclining back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as if satisfied that someone else was in Oz and miserable, besides him, because of the Governor and his bullshit campaign tactics. Then as an afterthought Keller looked over at Pete, "Sorry, Sister."

Reid chewed at his bottom lip trying to unsuccessfully suppress a smile, "I'd say that was an accurate representation of things."

"Accurate representation of things," Chris parroted looking back at Reid, unimpressed. "Is that how it's going to work, doctor? I tell you how things are and then you water it down and decorate it with academic language?"

Before Reid could answer Keller continued, "Do they ever let you out of the office, doctor? They let you carry a gun? Those soft long fingers don't look like seen a day of action."

"Chris," Sister Pete interjected, "If you're going to be uncooperative…"

Keller slouched down even further in his chair feigning disinterest, "So Dr. Reid, you're here to tell me why I knocked off that liquor store so I could end up at the wrong end of a lethal needle?" Keller face became serious as he stared down his nose at Reid.

"That may be something you come to understand about yourself through this interview." Reid said combing through Keller's file, giving himself a reason to look away. Reid looked up and took a deep breath. Well, there's no time like the present, Reid thought. "What can you tell me about your home life as a child?"

Chris gave Reid a half smirk and then began to speak in a saccharine tone, "It was lovely; two siblings, trips to the zoo, cotton candy, baseball games with Dad..."

"Chris, the only one whose time you're wasting is your own." Pete said evenly trying to meet Keller's eyes.

"That's all Oz is, isn't it Sister?" He then turned his attention back to Reid, "Yeah, a big time suck like some wanton whore draining out ever last drop. If you'd like to save some time Dr. Reid, I'll tell you what you want to know. I'm the lowest of the low, as bad as they come. You're bound to get a bad apple every so often. If you ask me I think it's a waste of a doctor to try and come to that conclusion. Every so often you just get a rotten one so what do you do? You throw it in the trash. Oz is the trash, you telling me, you got your pile of degrees so you could sift through trash?"

"Was your father the one to tell you that?" Reid said bring the conversation back full circle.

"He didn't live to see me put away a second time but yes, when I ended up in Lardner playing bitch to Vern Schillinger, he might have said something like that." Chris's even tone took on an edge at the mention of Vernon Schillinger, a middle-aged neo-Nazi that, Reid's files told him, was also in Oz.

"Was he your first homosexual encounter?" Reid knew he couldn't hesitate or allow his words to fumble at this question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Keller said shifting reclined position, elongating his body and stretching out his feet in front of him, coming uncomfortably close to Reid.

"Yes, I would." Reid was getting a hang of Chris's games and the urge to squirm under Keller's scrutiny lessened. "You were also married several times."

"Yeah, four if you count Bonnie," Chris rolled his eyes and gave a dismissive grunt, "I married her twice."

"You divorced her for the second time just months before the robbery that lead to your initial conviction to OZ. Did you initiate the divorce proceedings?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Keller stretched again this time close enough to land a soft kick to Reid's loafer-covered foot. Reid pulled back immediately.

"Why did you want the divorce the second time?" Reid said, shuffling the papers in Chris's file.

It was then that the buzzer rang again, taking Reid by surprise and causing Keller to scowl and then chuckle when Reid's papers fell to the floor.

"Well professor, it looks like you'll have to wait in suspense." Chris said as Reid leaned forward to pick up the papers and then stopped himself – hesitant to put his neck out there, literally.

Chris sat up and leaned forward, further than he had to, in order to retrieve Reid's paperwork. He laughed as he saw the photo of himself threatening to slip from its paperclip and out of the folder. Keller extended the paperwork to Reid but before Reid could take it from him a guard had entered the room and pulled Keller out of his chair and away from Reid. Instinctively, Keller jerked away which only led to the guard pushing Keller, face first, up against the wall and slapping the cuffs on his wrists.

Keller turned and looked at Reid before he was led from the room, "Too bad I didn't get a picture with your interview request. I would have consented a lot sooner." Keller smiled at Reid. The guard's face rumpled in disgust and made his displeasure known by jerked him again by the elbow, pulling him out the door, and down the hall.

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><p><strong>AN: All of those active and engaged comments made my day - along with a return reader! I'm glad to see my time delays in updating 'Bleeding Heart' didn't dissuade you from givin' me another try. As far as seasons go for Oz, that has yet to be determined. I've been re-watching a few episodes trying to figure out where the ideas I have could fit in. With the introduction of Bonnie I am hoping that I can become more detailed about what has (and has not) happened yet (or will not happen?). Damaged is one of my favorite CM episodes and partially the inspiration for this story. If Reid's proven anything over the years, it's that he can talk his way out of pretty much anything. As far as bringing other Oz characters into the mix, that is yet to be determined. I'd say that most of the staff will be mentioned or make an appearance…as far as the other inmates…not sure, but most likely, no. **

**There is one man glaringly missing from this and we'll get to where he is in the next chapter. **

**Oh and I do agree, the cut in these two chapters was more of a break in my writing than a break in the story. I may have to go back and fix that but for now they'll remain split. Oh and 'complaining' that the chapters are too short are probably the best compliment a writer could received. I'm oh so glad that you're wanting more!**

**Thank you so much for your kind and oh-so-active reviews! Thanks to all the anon visitors and lurkers, your growing numbers are very heartening to the oft hesitant writer.**


	4. The Nightmare of the Hook

**Warning: This is the first chapter (and author note) that contains major spoilers for the entire series of Oz. Though I must say when it comes to watching Oz it isn't so much the 'what' but the 'how' that has its impact. I have little doubt that this knowledge will keep you from enjoy the show. This chapter also contains spoiler(ish) material for the CM episode, "Elephant's Memory." **

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><p>Hotch had requested that each member of the team send in their progress at the end of each day. In the effort to comply with Hotch's request, Reid had sat in front of his Bureau-issue laptop and stared at the blank white page for the last two hours.<p>

"_If they'd sent your picture I would have consented a lot faster."_

Reid couldn't exorcise those words from his mind nor the gnawing questioning at the odd feelings of protectiveness that rose up in him as he watched Keller shoved into the interview room wall. Reid knew Keller was a con artist first and that Reid's sudden wave of sympathy just meant that he was being suckered into Keller's latest con.

Keller had come to his fate by trying to manipulate those in his life one too many times. The confession that had put Keller back on Death Row had come from the most surprising of places, a former lover and Oz inmate, Tobias Beecher.

Tobias Beecher was a high-priced lawyer that had cracked under the pressure placed on him and turned to alcohol to ease his pain. After several citations for various traffic and moving violations, Tobias Beecher sealed his fate when he hit a young girl on a bicycle which ended her life instantly. Beecher's relationship with Keller was memorialized with a paper trail detailing the hospital visits, broken bones, solitary confinement, and other disciplinary actions that had come as a result of their interactions.

The first marker was an incident report justifying Christopher Keller's assignment to administrative segregation, or as it was more commonly know, 'the hole.' Keller had been caught in the laundry area 'making aggressive/sexual advances' towards Tobias Beecher. When Keller was confronted by a guard he replied by sending a glass container filled with a 'contraband substance' in the direction of the officer. Keller then proceeded to physical engage the three officers that came to answer the incident. According to the reporting officer, Keller was then confined to administrative segregation, or ad. seg., for an undisclosed amount of time. Beecher, the report noted as an afterthought, was non-confrontational both before and after the incident.

The second marker in their hazard-laden relationship was a hospital report filled out by Dr. Gloria Nathan, at the time the only medical doctor on staff at Oz. When Tobias Beecher had failed to show up for evening count, Oz had been searched and Beecher found in the gym with his arms and legs broken. Dr. Nathan's notes indicated that both of Beecher's arms had suffered from fairly clean spiral fractures. Reid knew full well the cause of a spiral fracture; a sharp twist of the limb, pressure is exerted on the hyper-extended limb, and then SNAP. Beecher's legs had been shattered at mid-calf. Dr. Nathan speculated that this could have been the result of a sharp blow with a heavy object. The photograph that accompanied the report made it clear that the 'heavy object' was a foot clad in an industrial boot – boots like the ones Chris had worn to their first intake meeting.

From there on Dr. Nathan's reports were short and in abundance; two ragged stab wounds to Keller's back, a gunshot wound to his chest, a broken nose, and two beatings that had been so severe that Keller had to be transported to the nearby hospital for adequate care.

Then there were the notes made by Agent Taylor, the curt alpha-male FBI agent that made many unsuccessful attempts to convict Keller with an array of murders; the mob hit taken out on Vernon Schillinger's oldest son, the kidnapping of Beecher's children which resulted in the death of Beecher's son, and the murder of Bryce Tibbets. The last which had occurred somewhere in between Chris's last divorce and robbery-gone-wrong that led to his incarceration in Oz.

Keller had found himself on Death Row once before after being convicted for the torture and murder of Bryce Tibbets. Tobias Beecher had been paroled during Keller's time on Death Row. Even though Beecher had been disbarred because of his felony conviction, it was the law firm owned by the Beecher family that had taken Keller's appeal. Agent Taylor had been impulsive and reckless by promising a third-strike crackhead a sentence reduction for false testimony against Keller. The Beecher family law firm had been quick to point out prosecutorial misconduct, coerced witness testimony, and scant evidence to support the conviction otherwise, and like that Keller's death sentence was overturned. A copy of the ruling had been included in Keller's folder along with the note that Keller received the notification via personal delivery from his counsel. Tobias Beecher had come to Death Row to deliver the news personally.

Reid couldn't help but wonder what kind of con Keller had pulled on Beecher for him to still strive for Keller's safety even after he'd broken him limb from limb.

The final piece of historical documentation was the testimony provided by Tobias Beecher regarding Chris Keller's murder of Ronald Barlog and Franklin Winthrop. It was Beecher's testimony that led to Keller's resuming his place on Death Row.

Reid didn't need to ask Keller who _he'd_ pissed of because that was evident though the circumstances. The file gave no indications as to why the man that personally fought for Keller's safety would then turn and provide the key piece of evidence needed to sentence him to death.

Reid began jotting down questions for the next day's session not because he was forgetful but because a notepad or file folder gave him the opportunity to break eye contact. Reid chuckled at that though. Hotch would have been much better suited to conducting this interview, Reid thought. Reid allowed himself a smile as he imagined Hotch locked in a staring contest with his interviewee. Keller very well may have used up his entire life sentence if he'd engaged the Unit Chief.

Though after the first interview, Reid was convinced that Hotch had made a sound strategic move in not insisting that he go in Reid's place. A meeting between Hotch and Keller or (God forbid!) between Morgan and Keller would have been unproductive, at best, and downright confrontational, at worst. It was clear that Keller's tactics were centered on his ability to wield his words like a Ginsu knife, cutting through all defenses no matter his audience. Keller must have been quite the success on the street, he knew just how to shape his words and phrases so that they cut right to the heart of his mark. Jason Gideon, Reid's mentor and former coworker, had said it many times to the team and to the law enforcement that they advised; criminals are often times the best profilers, they have to be able to make those instant character judgments on just who would make a worthwhile mark. Keller, Reid had a sense, was a hell of a profiler.

After one more mind-numbing hour of research and preparation Reid decided it was time to retire for the night. Tomorrow he was headed back to Oz and he would need every ounce of mental reserves – just to allow himself to be locked into that gray abyss, let alone what it would take to deal with Keller's games.

#-#-#-#-#

Reid fell into sleep with ease but it wasn't long before he was wracked with his familiar recurring nightmare but this time with a blood-chilling twist.

"_Psst! Spencer!" A hushed voice came from behind a bookshelf in the high school library. _

"_I'm working on homework." The eleven-year-old Reid said dismissively. Spencer was a small boy, measuring at a little over five feet tall if you factored his chin-length hair as well. The large glasses that consumed most of his face and his penchant for sweater-vests made him a prime target for bullies, to say nothing of his genius IQ which all too often was putting his high school senior classmates to shame. _

"_Psst! Come 'er!" The voice hissed again. _

"_No." Spencer said not even bothering to look up from his texts._

_Out from behind the bookcase came a pretty sophomore girl dressed in her cheerleading uniform. "Spencer," she whispered conspiratorially, "I have a surprise for you."_

"_No thanks, my hair has just dried from the last time those nincompoops dunked my head in the toilet. Besides, I have to be home in an hour." Because if I'm not, Reid thought, my mother won't remember to eat and I barely got her to take breakfast. No, his classmates had enough ammunition without revealing his mother's mental illness. _

"_Alexa told me she wants to share a soda with you," the cheerleader paused and leaned in close to Spencer, "under the bleachers."_

_Before Reid could protest or question any further, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Spencer followed her, abandoning his possessions, and headed down the hallway, out the school doors, and in the direction of the football field and the bleachers. Spencer's stomach was filled with butterflies which, once their feet hit the football turf, turned to a solid weight of dread and fear. _

_There sat Alexa on the lowest bleacher seat closest to the goal post and surrounding the goalpost was the entire varsity football team and some of their friends. _

_Reid turned to run but barely made it a half of a step before running face-first into the middle of the team's quarterback, a nearly six foot tall senior boy who had met Spencer as part of his teacher's recommendation that he seek tutoring in math, from Spencer. "Where are you headed, genius? Don't you want to ask Alexa something?"_

_Reid put his hands out and tried to push away from the gargantuan senior but ended up flat on his back instead. Reid gasped and struggling for breath since the wind had been slammed from his lungs. But before Reid could regain his composure the team swarmed him like a wave of blue washing over him. Reid felt his legs pulled and his shoes removed followed quickly by his khaki pants and underwear. Reid screamed as another series of anonymous hands pulled at his sweater-vest and then ripped that, and the shirt underneath it, away from Reid's body. Another large hand wound its way into Reid's hair and pulled him to his feet. _

_Reid had barely gained his balance before the strong, demanding hands were pushing him toward the goal post. After a few steps Reid allowed the momentum to push him into a run, trying his best to get away from the crowd that was growing exponentially and closing in on him. Reid's own momentum carried him almost to the goalpost. Reid actually thought for a moment that he'd be able to force his way through the gathering crowd and run his way home, too frightened to care that he would be doing that in the nude. _

_He knew what was coming next, he'd lived it after all, and dreamed it regularly after that. Reid's body tensed, breaking out in a cold sweat as he tried desperately to escape what he knew was coming; the open-handed blows, the taunts, his tears, his scream, the belt bound tightly across his wrists as he was fastened naked to the goalpost._

_In an instant Reid was no longer the frightened little boy but the lithe twenty-eight year old man – still stripped of his clothes and shivering in fear. The field had grown dark and the crowd had disappeared. Alexa was still there in the darkness, soda cup in hand, but Reid could not see her face. He could only make out a form. _

"_Help! Help me! Please, help me!" Reid sobbed, humiliated and desperate to be cut free. _

_The form on the bench was gone and then all Reid could see was blue, not the blue of varsity letterman jackets. No,this was an icy blue that sent a cold shiver down Reid's spine and left a lump in his throat. Reid felt a hand at his neck and another at his cheek, "Is it time already for my last meal?"_

_Before Reid could scream again those lips, that were so often stretch in a smug grin, covered Reid's mouth. Seeking escape, Reid bit down hard when he felt Keller's tongue enter his mouth. Keller pulled back and smiled at Reid, a sheen of blood coating his bottom teeth. Keller let the hand that had been cupping Reid's cheek fall to join the other hand at Reid's throat. Twist, extend…_

Reid awoke coughing violently, his cheeks wet with sweat and tears. He stripped off his soaked undershirt and tossed it onto the foot of the bed before looking over at the clock and cursing to himself. Reid's alarm was due to go off in an hour and a half and he was loathe to try and go back to sleep. Reid shrugged out of the rest of his damp clothes and headed toward the bathroom looking forward to the warm water on his tension-strained muscles. Reid tried not to think that in another few short hours he'd staring down those menacing blue eyes again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, I'm not really sure where _that _came from. LOL. Anyone else's palms sweating? I will continue to try and expand with each chapter because after this the other details are starting to become clear. So this takes place in an alternate version of the middle of the last season of Oz. Well, I'm not so sure how alternate it is considering that when Toby returns to Oz he decides to sell Keller out though he doesn't get the chance. So for the few of you that were wondering, where the heck Beecher was for all of this…there ya go. I know DarknessIsTheUniverse probably won't forgive me for working with a short-haired Reid but these are the risks one takes. ;)**

**I cannot thank you all enough for your encouraging words, the call for longer chapters, and for keeping me honest on details. To the ranks of anon-readers, thanks to stats, your presence is amply felt. All of you have made me sublimely happy. **


	5. Like Fishing with Dynamite

**WARNING: Serious spoilers for the first three seasons of Oz and some seriously offensive language.**

Chris Keller looked down at his hand, dripping with sweet, sticky orange juice as the pulp and peel found its way into his nails. Chris squeezed the orange tighter in his fist, inhaling the scent as it spread throughout his cell. The sweet tangy scent temporarily over-powering the two scents of Oz that were constantly fighting for supremacy; damp mold and bleach. Chris had brought an orange to Toby after he'd stayed in bed, refusing to eat, after his children had been taken. Toby had smashed the orange in his fist and then hurled it against the plexiglass wall. Of course it had gotten the attention of the hacks. Fucking hacks, they were ready to take Toby away for that as if they wouldn't hurl a lot more than an orange against the wall if their child had been taken and they were powerless to provide for their safe return.

Chris sat at the end of his bed consumed in thought as he dug his nails in deeper to the flesh of the orange. The loud buzzing tone sounded to mark the first rotation of the units from one recreation to another. On Death Row these tones meant next to nothing, save for the fact that somewhere in the building, someone who wasn't Chris, was moving about freely for the moment.

The orange went flying across Chris's cell and up against the stone wall across from his bed. "Keller! Pick that shit up and wash your hands, your new girlfriend is back and waiting for you in the meeting room."

Chris glared at the hack, Lopresti, as he took the few wide steps to his sink, making sure to crush the orange underfoot as he went. "Asshole," Chris grumbled as he washed the orange drippings from his hands but didn't bother to remove the skin from under his nails. The skin and pith under his nails would come in handy when Dr. Reid pretended to go over his notes to get away from Chris's unwavering gaze.

Lopresti entered Chris's cell, "Okay Keller, you know the drill, turn the fuck around." Before giving Chris a moment to comply Lopresti put his hands on Keller's shoulder in an attempt to turn him around. Keller brought up his arm to swat away Lopresti's offending touch but turned anyhow placing his wrists, palms up, at the small of his back. He wasn't about to give Lopresti the satisfaction of ruining another visit or sending him back to hospital with more bumps and bruises. Keller's lips grew into a snarl as he imagined himself back in that hospital bed. Practically speaking, it was unlikely that the Warden Glynn would allow him to spend any of his days in the hospital rather than in the cold misery of Death Row.

Regardless of Keller's compliance, Lopresti still unsheathed his baton and used it to shove the cuffed Keller out of his cell and down the hall in the direction of the meeting room.

As Chris rounded the corner he smiled seeing Reid looking down studiously at his notepad and file, pretending to copy down notes, and study up as if Chris was sort of impending test. _Sometimes in life, Dr. Reid, there are just somethings you gotta wing, ya know, fly by the seat of your pants._ Chris suspected that for all of the doctor's book-learning and school-smarts that he wasn't shit when it came to makin' it out in the world.

When Keller entered the room Reid stood. "Good morning, Chris." Reid figured if he was going to go through with this after last night's fitful sleep he might as well make peace with it.

"Chris?" Chris arched his eyebrow scanning Reid from head to toe. "Chris." He repeated again as if testing out his own name. "OK. I dunno, Reid. Was it a good morning?" He said with a lascivious smile.

"No," Reid said matter-of-factly. Well now, Reid thought, we're off to a great start. Already the cold plastic upholstery at Reid's back had him fighting off memories of the dream he'd been trapped in just hours ago.

"Stay in that motel nearby? Ya know, I 've gotten some of my best night's sleep in beds like that," Chris smirked as Reid sat back stiffly in his chair and Chris slunk into his respective seat, "then again, I've usually got someone next to me in case I just can't get to sleep. You got a partner, Dr. Reid? Maybe your own intern to type your reports?" Chris paused as Reid looked down for the first time at his blank notepad, "Or polish up all of those notes you take?"

Reid's eyes shot up to look at Keller's face. There was that predatory grin. Reid could almost see the blood on his teeth and feel the pressure on his neck. Though he wasn't about to let Chris derail him today because the he faster he learned to take control of the conversation the faster he would be out of Oswald, this godforsaken town, and back at Quantico.

"Last time I was here you mentioned Bonnie, your ex wife, why'd you marry her a second time?"

Chris's brow furrowed at the odd transition. In all honesty, he'd rather not think about her or any of the shit-disasters attached to knowing her.

"I owed it to her to do it right at least once," Chris said with a shrug of his well-muscled shoulders. "First time, we got married in Vegas, spent most of our time high as fuckin' kites on one thing or another," Keller then made a more pronounce shrug of his shoulders, drawing Reid's attention to the ink on his upper arm.

That day Chris had come attired as if the temperature had risen in Oz. In reality, the morning weather outside was a balmy cold that usually indicated a hot and humid day was sure to come. Though Reid was certain from Keller's vantage point on Death Row, he would not even have a view of the overcast sky. Chris was still in those black utility boots, gray cargo pants, but this time instead of a thermal he was wearing a white tank top that for most men, would have been worn under something else. In college, Reid had been badgered into a dramatic arts class to complete his general education requirements – they'd read 'Streetcar Named Desire' as a class. Keller, Reid thought, could have easily served as a stand in for Stanley Kowalski.

"Making it right?" Reid asked, "Usually when I hear that it's a sign of remorse for," Reid paused to appear to be measuring his words but in actuality he wasn't quite sure that what he was about to assert wouldn't earn him a trip to Dr. Gloria Nathan. "It's usually a sign of domestic abuse."

Keller pulled back squinting at Reid in confusion, "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me, doctor! Are you sure you're a profiler?" Keller shook his head as if to toss the accusation from his mind, "Shit naw, you ever been to Vegas? It ain't exactly the romance capital of the world. The second time, she wanted family there. I didn't really care because I ain't really got much in the way of familial relations but Bonnie wanted her mother there bawlin' in the front row and her Dad to give her away," Chris laughed, "well, give her back to me, in any case."

Keller's mischievous grin returned. "To celebrate the completion of your assignment, you should take that intern of yours and hope a plane. Go see the city that never sleeps, or is that New York? Well, whatever. You two can wander around wide-eyed in the glow of all of those lights." For a second, Keller almost sounded nostalgic or saddened a little.

"I grew up there," Reid blurted out before he could stop himself. Why did he suddenly feel like he had to rise to the occasion of Keller's taunts – there was no blue letterman jacket on his shoulders, why give him the satisfaction?

Keller's face broken into an open-mouthed grin as he tossed his head back in a bout of silent laughter, "I bet you had a good time," Keller said in an even tone that stung of more sarcasm than any of their previous exchanges.

"You look barely old enough to have graduated college. I bet you skipped a few grades, huh? All the girls flock to that big brain of yours?" After last night's fitful rest Reid thought it better to make deep eye contact with his notepad than with Keller as he continued to bait him. Keller lowered his voice, "Or maybe you spent all your time hiding behind books and notepads all through high school and your loads of college classes. You still cherry, Doc-ter Reid?"

Reid almost snapped his own neck as he fought the urge to jerk his head up in a disgusted glare. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on his notepad. "You want to know why you robbed that liquor store, Chris?" Reid tried hard to keep the rattled nerves out of his voice but failed miserably, pressing forward anyhow, undeterred. "I think you already know the answer, you felt guilty for something and anger. Was it Bonnie? You say didn't hit her then what did you do to her that you felt the need to punish yourself for? Did you cheat on her?" Reid spoke quickly, he had to get this all out before he lost his nerve, shifting his glance between his notepad and Keller's quickly darkening face. "We've already established that you enjoy having sex with men, were you involved with another man? Is that why you needed to put yourself behind bars? Because in here you're free to indulge and you don't have to admit to actually liking men? You can maintain that anything is better than a life sentence, and a life of celibacy?"

Before Reid could continue in his litany of questions that were just thinly veiled accusations, Keller was out of his chair and had closed the gap between he and Reid. With his forehead pressed against Reid's he applied a steady pressure, angling Reid's face up so he met Keller's eyes, "If you're gonna ask me shit like that the least you could do is look at me, doctor, Chris said in a low growl, which slid into a seductively understanding tone, "I know you're scared, you ain't hiding a thing. It's OK," Keller whispered as if coaxing a lover into something new. "I'd think you were really fuckin' dumb if you weren't scared, but you're a genius so," Keller's lips were nary a breath away from Reid's. Keller smelled like oranges and the musty dampness of Death Row, a strange contradiction.

It seemed like an eternity before the door to the meeting room burst open and a guard entered the room, baton at the ready, as he quickly approached the pair. The guard grabbed Keller by the back of the next like a wayward dog and began to pull him away from Reid. Reid assumed that Keller would be drug out of the meeting room and back to Death Row or off to 'the hole' if they were feeling particularly sadistic that day. Reid held up his hand. "It's fine, Officer. We won't have any more trouble, will we Chris?" He said staring Keller straight in the eye.

Before Keller could answer, the guard had used his baton to shove Keller back into the gray padded chair. Chris rubbed at the back of his neck and then shook his head in affirmative.

"No, Dr. Reid there won't be any more trouble," Keller's voice shifting seamlessly into a submissive tone.

The guard picked up the notepad that had been thrown across the room and returned it to Reid's hands. "Thank you."

"No problem, doctor," The older guard said courteously, "You sure you don't want a C.O. in here with you?"

Reid shook his head not entirely sure that he wasn't signing his own death warrant. "Thank you, Officer Mineo, I think we'll be fine."

Mineo looked over his shoulder to confirm Reid's consent before leaving the room and resuming his place against the wall, right outside the meeting room door.

Reid cleared his throat and collected his papers without failing to maintain eye contact with Keller. "You'd mentioned that Vernon Schillinger was incarcerated with you at Lardner and the Warden tells me that he is here in Oz as well. Were you returning to him?" Reid knew he was wrong but he had a feeling that he was on the right track in his questioning.

Keller scowled at Reid and then canted his tattooed should toward Reid, "This look like a fuckin' swastika to you, Reid?" Indeed it wasn't. Reid hadn't spent too much attention on it but his cursory glance had led him to think that it was a dagger or sword of some sort. Keller wasn't in the military so that made little, if any, sense. Upon closer examination it was the antithesis of both of those things, a pseudo-Cubist rendering of Christ on the cross - an interesting choice to say the very least. Keller chuckled as Reid studied his arm.

"The good ol' Warden Glynn tell you Vern's preferred method of marking his prag? Is that in your detailed little folder?" Keller said arching an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Before Reid could answer, Keller continued on, his tone darkening again, "He'd like you. He'd watch you from a distance for awhile, let you flounder around as you got pushed around and ripped off by the spics and niggers, then he'd come to your rescue. After you'd earned a few bruises and had the few nice things your momma sent you in with redistributed, he'd offer to room with you instead of whoever you were unlucky enough to initially be paired with." Chris watched as Reid fought the urge to look down at his notes and swallowed the lump that must have been forming in the back of his throat.

Chris lowered his voice as he took on a look of seriousness, as if giving an instructional lesson to Reid, "Then locked in your pod that night, with your new roommate, you'd come to realize your mistake. He hadn't picked up this technique yet when we were in Lardner but," Chris snickered, "I've heard he likes to brand his prags. Somehow I seriously doubt that his Fuhrer would approve of placing his brand there on someone's ass so everyone knew it was reserved for Vern to fuck, and Vern alone."

Reid cleared his throat again. "So you're not speaking from experience?"

"I know you'd love me to drop my pants for you, Dr. Reid but," He said grinning at Reid's discomfort as Keller reached toward the top button of his pants. Keller shook his head but couldn't resist an open-handed pass over his zipper, taking full advantage of Reid's focus, before resting back on the arm of the chair, "I don't think the hacks would be too happy with that and I don't particularly like the idea of spending my last days lying naked on cement...you'll just have to take my word for it."

Keller leaned forward and flicked the folder on Reid's lap, Reid flinched, "That folder of yours mention Beecher? He's been so open with the Feds lately I'm surprised someone there at the Bureau doesn't have first-hand knowledge," Keller laughed, "Bitcher was quite the slut, maybe Agent Taylor can tell you what Vern's handy work looks like."

"So that was Tobias Beecher's story?" Reid asked casually.

"I wasn't here at the time but yeah, he and Vern hated each other more than I'd ever seen, and that's sayin' something," Keller said taking on a conversational tone.

"Beecher was found later that year in the gym with his arms and legs broken, did Schillinger do that too? You said he'd branded Beecher as his property, was it in retaliation for what happened between you and Beecher in the laundry room?"

Keller's casual smile darkened by the time Reid had completed his question. He hesitated before answering. "It ain't as they're gonna kill me twice if I tell you this shit so," Chris let out a deep sigh, "oh what the hell, I broke Beecher's arms and Schillinger broke his legs."

Keller pursed his lips as he remembered that day; Toby bound up in Keller's arms and legs as he held him to the wrestling mat on the gym floor, Schillinger laughing like a delighted child as Keller twisted and snapped each of Toby's arms, Toby's cries of anger and pain at Chris's betrayal, Vern lifting his boot over Toby's extended leg, Vern's triumphant yell, _Seig fuckin' Heil, baby!_, then Schillinger bringing his boot down with a sickening snap.

"Oh," Reid said not bothering to keep the disgust from his face, "yeah, I can see how that would make a difference."

Keller just glared at Reid.

Reid waited a few beat before asking, "The report says that you'd been caught earlier that year in the laundry making aggressive or sexual advances toward Tobias Beecher. Was that just foreplay for breaking his limbs later?" Reid knew that he was supposed to employ empathy but right now, looking at Keller's smug face, Reid couldn't help but think that the world would be better off with one less sadistic bully in its numbers.

Keller gestured toward the file on Reid's lap, "Is that really what it says? Maybe they meant sexually aggressive," Keller raised his eyebrows at Reid suggestively, "Fuckin' hacks don't know when to let a good thing alone."

Keller was unsure if this next confession would cause the young agent discomfort or just increase that angry look that he was fighting so hard to keep off his face. "Toby'd just come from visiting his kids for the first time since he'd been locked up. He was came bouncing into the laundry room with this big fuckin' grin on his face. He'd shaved off that ridiculous leather-daddy facial hair that he must have thought would have kept his ass. He looked like what he must have been before he was locked up, even if that was a scumbag lawyer."

"Scumbag?" Reid questioned. "I thought he got you off Death Row with his skills and his family's law firm?"

"Lot of good that did, huh?" Chris said, fidgeting at the arm of the chair and then switching his focus to pick the pith and pulp from his nails.

Then the familiar buzz of the rotation-tone sounded and Officer Mineo entered. "Let's go, Keller." Keller stood, this time without resistance, and Mineo snapped the cuffs on Keller's wrists. Halfway out the door, Keller turned to Reid again, "Just curious but what would you call a lawyer that got a murderer off Death Row, Dr. Reid?"

Keller had been at the other side of the room for the blow that struck Reid like a harpoon straight to the gut. Keller smiled, relishing the look of shock on Reid's face, as Mineo pulled him from the room. "See ya tomorrow, Reid?"

Long after Keller had gone, Reid sat in the meeting room trying to absorb the day's information.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And here I was hoping to leave Schillinger out of this, oh well. I honestly think that he's one of the best drawn modern-day villains in fiction that there's been in a long while. On a really odd note, did you know Wikipedia has a comprehensive list of racial slurs? WTH! What doesn't Wikipedia have? **

**On a completely different note, I was very surprised at the ease at which this chapter came out onto the page (errors aside). This seriously makes me question myself considering my discomfort in writing sexual scenes. Ah the latent influences of American culture, uptight about sex but perfectly fine with the blood and gore. **

**Onto something positive: Thank you so much to all of the reviews, and for the renewed and new readership. I'm pleased that so many of you are willing to take a risk on the unfamiliar material and better yet, are encouraging for more. Y'all are the best! Thanks again for the many smiles you bring to my day.**

**Oh yes, before I forget, if you are interested in the 'laundry scene' in question you can find it in its entirety on YouTube along with most of the show. However, I think the scene is cut before Keller gets tossed in 'the hole.' So if seeing Christopher Meloni (aka Keller) in the buff is your thing…LOL…Google is a good friend to have. **


	6. Terminal Tackle

**WARNING: Descriptions of violence, non-consensual sex, and an author playing fast and loose with canon material. Seriously though, if non-con or sexual violence triggers (or squicks) you then skip the portion in italics and go to the next break in the chapter. The information contained in the italicized material will be discussed in less graphic terms in the next chapter. **

Reid got into his rented car in the staff lot of Oz and sat as the day's events played through his head. He rubbed at his face repeatedly trying to scrub the memory of Keller from his flesh. Reid had shaken the entire time Keller had been in contact with him and he knew that there was no way that Keller could have missed it. Reid barely registered the words Keller had said as their lips were just inches from each other. His eidetic memory served more as a handicap than a skill in those times. Reid's mind spent little time considering an escape route while the bulk of his thoughts were occupied by statistics, probabilities, and techniques in which he might meet his end. With Keller the 'how' was not a question. Keller could be stripped bare and still be in possession of his best and most lethal of weapons, his hands. Reid was thankful then, as much as he was now, that Keller had kept those hands on either arm of Reid's chair and he hadn't attempted to touch him.

Keller had come to the meeting as dressed down as possible without showing up in gym shorts or without an article of clothing completely. Reid shook his head as he tried to avoid conjuring that image. Reid was lost in thought when there was a loud rap on his window. He recognized the face as the intervening officer in the meeting room – Mineo.

Reid rolled down his car window.

"Alright there, Dr. Reid?"

"Yeah, just preparing for the drive," He said hoping his still rattled nerves weren't still evident in his voice.

Mineo nodded agreeably, "It takes a while to get used to this place, if you ever can," He said offering a sympathetic smile to Reid. "I don't know what that was about between you and Keller in there but in my experience, if Keller is pulled around by a C.O. it's usually because he's," Mineo hesitated, he wasn't one to offer advice but there was something about the ashen color of the young man that made him sympathetic.

"You know, most the men who work here, they've been here so long they forget the little details that make this place, well, let's be honest – the hellhole that it is. Some of the guys like me or McManus, for instance, we've got a legacy of this kind of work – our fathers were doing this job too." As Mineo spoke, his throaty New York accent took on a kind of comforting lull, as if Reid were sitting at his dining room table rather than where he was, in the parking lot of a maximum security prison.

"I didn't mean to talk your ear off all night, Dr. Reid. Don't worry about coming again, we have your back. We all hesitate at the beginning of the day wondering if we really can come back here again for another day and, if we'll get to leave at the end of it. From what I understand you're interviewing Keller as part of a study – I wish you much success. Who knows maybe if you get the information you're looking for there won't be a need for my son to take this job." Mineo shook Reid's hand and then wished him a safe drive before heading to his respective car.

When Reid arrived at his motel room he suddenly regretted the decision to come straight back and not stop for a drink or something to mellow the effects of the day. Instead, Reid sat down and began the day's report to Hotch. _Keller may have alluded to having committed the three unsolved murders of which he is suspected. _

Reid had typed those words a good twenty times, deleting it after each subsequent completion. What did all of this mean anyhow? If Keller did confess to killing those three men, what would that change? Their families would have the opportunity to sit in the gallery to witness his execution, to reap some sort of revenge thinly veiled in closure? The last sight Keller would see would be the stony faces of the families he'd ruined, Governor Devlin, and maybe, Sr. Pete? Mineo's idea was meant to be kind and encouraging, to provide Reid with some strength to complete his assignment, but was there even a hint of truth to it? No matter the answer; Reid would be here for the duration, Keller would be dead in less than two weeks, and the Mineo family would continue its indentured servitude to the state and its prisoners.

_In less than two weeks, Keller will be nothing more than a memory._

Reid made up his mind and excised the sentence from his report for good. As it was, Hotch would have plenty of information to work with without news of the possible confession or Reid's scrape with Keller. In the case of the latter, Reid knew his mention of Keller's aggressiveness would only earn Reid an unexpected knock on his door from Hotch or Morgan. If that were to happen, Reid though, he may as well pack up his things and go home now because Keller would shut down.

Reid continued to write, study and research until his eyes began to rebel and refused to focus, or for that matter, stay open. Apprehensively, Reid gave himself over to that night's sleep hoping that he would not drift back that familiar nightmare or any new terrors.

#-#-#-#-#-#

It had been a long time since someone had put their arms around Keller's waist and clung to him while his bike sped down the highway. Inmates complained about missing a lot of things; sex, chocolate, their mother, their dog, and strange shit, like their stamp collection, or some weird regional food that they ate like gangbusters before getting locked up. Keller missed the freedom of the Interstate, the sea constantly at his side, and the warmth of a lover pressed against his back.

Keller lay back in his bed, shifting uncomfortably as a wayward mattress coil pressed into his back. For a moment Keller entertained the idea of pulling it from the mattress, flattening it out, and sharpening it down so he could stick it into Lopresti's throat when the right moment came. It wasn't the violence that Keller craved but the satisfaction of putting an end to another neo-Nazi scumfuck in Oz. Maybe that wasn't entirely true; Keller missed the sweat and adrenaline that came with a heated fight and Lopresti was a worthy target. Lopresti didn't even try to contain his glee when he had gotten the chance to escort Keller back to Death Row. The occasion was especially sweet since Beecher had made such a big show about getting Keller's sentence overturned the first time.

Chris let out a frustrated groan at the thought of Beecher. Beecher had hopped in bed (or behind the washers, or the showers, or anywhere else, really) in an effort to hurt Chris and to fill him with jealousy. Beecher's plan had worked well and without knowing it at the time, had actually been beneficial to Keller as well. Without Beecher's willingness to fuck everything in sight, Keller would have never know about his former partner-in-crime Ronnie Barlog's plan to sell him out to the Feds. Beecher had come to warn him and Keller had handled the rest.

Keller slipped his hand below his blanket and through the fly of his boxers, massaging himself lazily.

Ronnie was adorable, well-built, and with eyes so blue they were almost gray which was a sharp contrast to his olive skin and copious amounts of black hair. Those big eyes made Ronnie look like a lost puppy even when he was in the middle of screwing someone out of, well, whatever it was that they had that he and Keller didn't. Even the most erotic of memories were clouded by their eventual conclusion. Keller would die for his role in putting down that big, dumb, and dangerous puppy.

Keller turned once again and drifted into sleep.

_As soon as Keller walked through the doors of the loud and dark bar, he knew he'd made the right decision. He'd told Ronnie that he was going out to find some easy cash and maybe score some coke. A bar frequented by well-heeled college brats seemed like the right place to start. Finding the coke had been easy, one trip to the toilet and it was practically handed to him once he opened the door. The cash hung out there for the picking too. There were plenty of drunken girls not minding their purses, and just as many men focused on getting laid, more than they were on their wallet that they'd lain down on the bar. _

_Suddenly, Keller was jostled and shoved to the side as he stood at the bar waiting for his beer. He whipped his head in the direction of the offender with that empty look on his face that indicated that his mind was clear and his fists ready for action. "Oh, I'm sorry," the young man next to him spat out quickly before Keller could speak. The bottle of beer Keller had ordered slid to him as he held eye contact with the offending young man. "Let me get that for you?" The boy said simultaneously setting down a few singles on the bar before Keller could protest. _

_Keller scanned the boy up and down – this one wore his interests on his overly tight sleeve. Faggot._

"_Thanks," Chris smiled. The boy beamed back at him. "I dunno though," Keller leaned into the young man, his warm breath tickling the boy's ear, "letting a boy buy me a drink with a fake ID, that's a new one." _

_The boy pulled back and laughed. "I'm of age!" He pushed at Chris's bicep playfully. _

"_Uh huh," Chris said moving closer, "Just in case, why don't we get you out of here before the cops come and take you away." A wide grin stretched across Keller's face as he imagined just how well this fragile boy would fair even in county lock-up._

_The boy downed his drink and trotted after Chris, who was already on his way out of the bar. Keller walked up to his bike and leaned against the seat, taking a cigarette pack from the pocket of his black leather jacket. The boy walked up to Keller, still grinning from ear to ear. Poor bastard can't believe his luck, Keller thought bemused; he's in for the night of his life, for sure. _

_Keller extended the half empty pack in the boy's direction. "Eighteen, right?"_

_The boy laughed, "Twenty-one last month. I'm Bryce," Chris lit the cigarette between his lips._

"_Well birthday-boy, ever been on a motorcycle?"_

_Bryce clutched his cigarette nervously as he shook his head._

_Keller dropped the cigarette and rubbed it out under his boot. Chris mounted the bike and hand his helmet back to Bryce, "Wanna go for a ride?" _

"_Promise to not go too fast?" Bryce asked sounding timid. Such the little boy, Keller thought, this was going to be fun._

_Keller extended his hand, leaning the bike so that Bryce could easily swing his leg over the back, "We can start out as slowly as you need." Chris wiggled back against the younger man._

_Bryce blushed and flipped down the face-shield of the helmet. Keller righted the bike and Bryce wrapped his arms firmly around Keller's middle. Keller put up the kick-stand with a snap that caused Bryce to take in a sharp nervous breath. Keller chuckled as the engine revved and he felt Bryce shiver. Then they were off. It was a short drive up the Interstate to a nice long night in the privacy in a wooded park that Keller knew like the back of his hand._

_Bryce was the perfect boy. When Keller extended his hand to help him of the bike Bryce feigned a trip and fell into Keller's waiting arms. Bryce was warm, small, and oh-so-pliant. Keller could taste alcohol and sugar on his lips as he ran his hands all over the boy, stopping to cup his ass and pull him even closer. Bryce groaned into Keller's mouth as he ground his erection into Keller's thigh. The boy was clawing at Keller like he'd only achieve his release if he could climb into Keller's skin. Keller brought a hand up to Bryce's sandy blonde hair and pulled him back from the kiss before this could get too out of hand. Bryce looked up at Keller with disappointed. Keller let a genuine smile stretch across his face – this was going to be very good._

_Keller grabbed the bedroll the was hooked over his saddlebags and gestured toward the trees, "Come on," Keller took Bryce's hand and began to pull him into the park._

_When Bryce hesitated and pulled away from Keller's grasp, Keller kissed him, using his tongue for the kind of persuasion that couldn't be accomplished with speech. As soon as Bryce's hand came up to dig into Keller's shoulder again, Keller caught it and pulled him further into the wooded park and, eventually, off the path. _

_From there the lines of willingness and consent took on the gray hue that surrounded Keller in Oz. Bryce practically came when Keller took the utility knife from his boot and popped each of the buttons off of the young man's shirt. Bryce had moaned wantonly as Keller had pinned his wrists to the well-worn fabric of the bed roll. The cries that Bryce let out when Keller slammed into him unprepared were somewhere between pain and pleasure. The gray turned to black when Bryce began to squirm and struggle to free his wrists. Keller responded by breaking his brutal rhythm to land an open-handed blow to the side of Bryce's face to accompany the verbal assault that he cooed in Bryce's ear like endearments .Keller pulsed inside the boy when tears began to stream down his cheeks and he earnestly began to beg._

_The boy just had to be reminded that he wanted this, that he'd sought Chris out for this, and that not long ago he'd been clawing at his back and thrusting his tongue in Keller's mouth begging for this. _

_Again, Bryce was clawing at Keller with his free hand; begging to be let go, for Keller to stop, to just, please, oh god, it hurts, just please stop. That only earned Bryce a harder slap to the face. When Bryce grew quiet and his sobs became despairing and muffled, Keller pinched the tender flesh at the inside of his thigh just to hear Bryce's cries regain their strength. Bryce eventually got to the point that they all did when they stopped being submissive and polite and began to fight back. Bryce swore at Keller and tried to force him from his body. The last move enraged Keller and he struck him repeatedly secretly relishing that Bryce's reaction. The struggle caused Keller to lose his purchase on the boy. _

_Bryce crawled away and tried to scramble to his feet only to be knocked back to the dirt. Keller's arousal regained its momentum as the small body struggled against him. Keller flipped the younger man onto his stomach and found his way back inside the boy, reaching his release quickly. _

_Bryce used Keller's bliss to his advantage as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees and tried to crawl away from Keller again. Keller reacted quickly, happy that the game had not ended – yet._

_As Bryce struggled, swore, and cried trying to break free of the various wrestling moves Keller was able to wrap him in. _

"_Ah! You grabbed my neck!" Came a familiar cry from beneath Keller and he pulled back in shock. The boy in his grasp had been replaced by a sweat-slicked and playful Tobias Beecher. Keller's eyes darkened as he gained control of Toby's wayward limbs and held his neck in a firm grasp._

_Twist, extend…_

_The sandy-blonde head that fell lifeless into Keller's hands was not that of Bryce nor was it Toby. Keller brushed the hair back from the obscure face. Immediately Keller pushed back from the body in a state of panic and horror as he looked into Dr. Reid's empty green eyes._

Keller bolted up in bed seconds before the morning buzzer sounded. The lights came on filling his cold cell with a blinding florescence. Keller rubbed at his eyes trying to wipe the empty stare of Dr. Reid from his vision. Reid would be back in Oz in just a few short hours.

Keller didn't want to see him.

#-#-#-#-#-#

Reid was sitting in the gray abyss of the meeting room when a siren went off and a group of guards when rushing down the hallway. Reid's stomach was bound up in knots when he realized they were all headed in the same direction that Chris came from regularly. After a few minutes more, Reid saw a small woman in a white lab coat and scrubs headed down the hall, all but running in the direction of Chris's cell.

Keller wasn't there to tell Reid not to stare at his notes to avoid fidgeting and nervousness so Reid busied himself until the meeting room door opened.

In the doorway stood Sr. Peter Marie attired in nearly the same outfit she'd been wearing when Reid met her; khaki pants, white blouse, and a black wool sweater.

"Dr. Reid," She said sitting down next to the younger man. "There was an incident this morning on Death Row, I wasn't able to get the full details from the supervising C.O. but suffice to say, Keller had been beaten pretty badly, as well as, Officer Lopresti," Sr. Pete allowed herself slight smirk. The idea of assigning someone like Lopresti to Keller was like running around explosives with a blowtorch. This wasn't the first or only time that Sr. Peter Marie found Leo Glynn's judgment seriously lacking.

"Will I be able to see him today?"

"Dr. Nathan has him in the hospital wing but Warden Glynn wants Keller back to Death Row as soon as possible. I'm so sorry for the delay Dr. Reid but I don't think it will be a possibility today."

"Can you take me to the hospital wing," Reid asked putting on his best official air. "I would like to speak to Dr. Nathan about her finding and to take documentation of Keller's injuries for the report."

Sr. Pete could see a dozen reasons not to comply with Reid's request but, she reasoned, anything that ensured that the staff would be free of the likes of Lopresti was probably a good thing.

#-#-#-#-#-#

After Sr. Peter had led Reid to the Hospital Wing and Reid had collected the necessary information from Dr. Nathan, he asked to see Keller for himself.

"Warden Glynn has requested that he be put on an anti-anxiety med, at the very least, until his execution date," Dr. Nathan said as she lead Reid through the large room with beds under each of its large windows, and most of the bed were filled, Reid noted.

"I'm requesting that you withhold administering any psychiatric medications before I can have consultation with my Unit Chief and Warden Glynn." Reid said authoritatively, jotting notes in his pad as they continued to walk through the hospital. In the next room was another series of beds on either side of the room. Just two beds away from the doorway lay Chris Keller. Keller was lying on his back with his head turned away from Dr. Reid. Dr. Nathan touched Reid's shoulder, "If you need anything," she said quietly so as not to disturb those who were sleeping, "don't hesitate to come back to my office or call."

Reid nodded politely and took the proffered card with Gloria Nathan's name and professional contact information on it.

Reid approached Keller's bed, completely at a loss for what he hoped to accomplish with this visit, or what he was going to say once Keller's hawk-like gaze landed on him.

Reid circled the bed so Keller wouldn't have to turn his head onto the sizeable bandage that was covering his temple and a good portion of his forehead. "Chris?"

Keller opened his eyes, looked at Reid, and groaned before closing his eyes again. "You're really serious about this database shit, doctor."

"I'm not here to interview you, Chris." Reid said regretting his decision not to leave Oz when he'd gotten the news.

Keller opened his eyes again, "Come to bring me flowers then?"

"Doesn't one usually bring flowers to a _girl_ to get them to open up?" Reid asked, regretting his turn of phrase as soon as it left his lips.

"Want me to open up for you, Dr. Reid? Well, this may be your best chance," Keller rattled the wrist-restraints on the bed, "and Dr. Nathan's ready to shoot me up with enough drugs to keep me nice and pliant," Keller turned his head and shouted in the direction of Dr. Nathan's office, "Good practice for the big day, huh doc!"

Reid grimaced and then tried to bring Chris's attention back to him. "Keller, what happened this morning?"

"I beat the shit out of Lopresti and he returned the favor," Chris sighed, "we're just both doing our jobs; unrepentant criminal and punisher of the wicked or whatever. I'll let you figure out who's who." Keller did his best to gesture to the space next to him on the side of the bed, "You can sit if you like, my legs are fine, and as you can see, I'm not going anywhere."

Reid gave a short smile and sat down on the empty space on the bed. "Did Lopresti need to be punished for something?" Reid asked quietly lest the guard pacing the Hospital Wing spread the conversation.

"You don't have to be generous just because I'm restrained and flat on my back," Keller looked at Reid, his face a mix of pain and honesty, "that never stopped me."

Reid didn't react, just sat and looked at Keller waiting for him to continue, "Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Reid, that I am repentant?" For a moment Reid wondered if Nathan had lied to him and had administered the psych meds, consent be damned.

Reid shifted in the small space, bringing his knee to rest on the bed so that he could face Keller rather than constantly having to turn his head. It also helped when it came to keeping an eye on the pacing guard. "I think that a man in your position would be forced to think about a lot things that he may have avoided for the rest of his life, if given the opportunity."

"I had a strange dream about you last night, ya know that, Dr. Reid?" Keller stretched his fingers and brushed at the cloth covering Reid's knee.

"No," Reid said firmly but quietly so that the C.O. pacing from room to room remained oblivious. "Chris, don't." Reid took his hand and gently pushed Keller's fingers back so that they formed a loose fist. Keller caught Reid's fingertips before he could move his hand back to that ever-present notepad.

"Please," Keller sounded almost weak, he loosened his grip on Reid's fingertips. "I know I sound crazy but I," Chris paused looking at Reid apologetically, "I just needed to get the memory of that cold out of my head."

To both men's surprise, Reid slid his hand closer, looking anxiously in the direction of the C.O. who had just turned to head back in the direction of Dr. Nathan's office.

Keller squeezed Reid's hand gently, "You're catching on quickly." Reid turned his head back in Chris's direction looking perturbed by Keller's observation.

"The cold of your…of Death Row?" Reid said trying to distract from Keller's observation that Reid had just attempted to hide something from the guards.

"Of your skin," Keller said as if he were apologizing. Then Keller's grip tightened on Reid's hand he made his confession, his voice cracking with restrained emotion, "I wish they wouldn't make me wait."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, this sure ran the emotional gamut. I'm unsure which one of you predicted this fic getting dark quickly, well I kind of wanted to argue with that point but the way these last two chapters came out, I think you were pretty spot on. In any case, I have continued to live up to my screen name. **

**Regarding chapter length and timely updates, I want to try and keep this work as cohesive and error-free as possible, which means that as the chapters lengthen so will the wait time. That being said, this is by far the easiest fic I've written to date. Thankfully I am at a point in life, a short point, where I can spend a fair amount of time indulging my writing. **

**Also, for those of you unfamiliar with Oz, it is so not The Shawshank Redemption or similar stories where the main prisoner is ambiguously guilt/completely innocent. Everyone in Oz earned their place there, in one way or another. Yet there is also a current of identifiable humanity in most of the characters as well. I really want to refrain from making judgments in regards to Keller. **

**Regarding the title (LOL), I've got a glossary of fishing terms and techniques up while I write this and I just happened to come across that half way through writing the Bryce scene. Thank you, Fisherman's Encyclopedia for providing for the perfect title. **

**Thank you to all of the new (and renewed) readers and reviewers! Special thanks to Ima for the much needed laugh! Your review came just at the right time and totally made me laugh out loud and inadvertently got me to keep writing after the Bryce scene. And to Sky, I think that makes you and Keller both who are unsure of how he feels about Beecher. Reid still has a little more than a week (for now) so I'm sure more clarification on the circumstances that led Beecher to snitch will come to light. **

**Thank you again and see you all in a day or so!**


	7. On the Hook

**WARNING: Spoilers (kinda) for CM episode, 'Riding the Lightening' and 'Revelations', and the standard fair of foul-language and violence.**

Reid sat frozen in place as Keller kept his hand in a firm grasp. Reid wiped his other hand on the leg of his slacks as his palms began to sweat. This was just such an occasion where Reid found himself rendered useless in a potentially dangerous situation due to his involuntary recitation of all the possible outcome and things that could go wrong. Reid was stuck on the image of guards swarming them both, Keller earning himself another beating while Reid watched helpless to stop. Reid could almost hear Hotch's voice laced with anger and disappointment. This wasn't the first time Reid had thrust himself into a dangerous situation due to misplaced empathy. The slippery slope of semi-logical outcomes led him crashing into the conclusion of things; Keller would still die and Reid would find himself looking for a job.

The bed restraints rattled as Keller moved his wrist and loosened his grip on Reid's hand. He looked at Reid with a strange sort of sympathy and then lightly squeezed his hand again, "Is this what happens when I take you away from your notes, doctor?"

Reid chuckled quietly looking down at their intertwine hands feeling embarrassed at his reaction. It was then that he noticed the dramatic red indentations on the top of Keller's hand. Reid had burnt himself enough during his follies and foibles of learning to cook that he knew what the lasting burn scars of hot liquid looked like, he had a few himself.

Reid lifted Keller's hand a bit. "I don't remember seeing this in your file, how long have you had these?"

"Maybe over dinner sometime you'll show me what is in my file. What do ya say to a date? Next Friday work for you?" Reid had given up trying to shame Chris for his gallows humor or resisting the bemused smirk that crossed his face as he imagined Keller reclining back and reading his file over his last meal. If dealing with loss meant a person had to move through grief, anger, denial, bargaining, sadness and acceptance, then it would stand to reason that being put to death would be no different. Keller was somewhere between anger and grief.

Reid squeezed Keller's hand, which Keller must have interpreted as acceptance of his offer because he looked Reid over with and arched eyebrow and incredulous smile.

Reid spoke before Keller had the opportunity to reveal whatever lascivious idea was on his mind. "No, really Chris, how did this happen?" Reid said ignoring the implications of that grin.

"You know I got shot in Em. City, right? Some shit-for-brains hack gave a gun to this crazy bastard that was here in Oz for smashing a statue in some museum - he kept going on about it was dirty and shit, whatever. I was standing in the wrong fuckin' place and he got me as he was shooting up Em. City. Actually, I guess you could say he killed me. Well, Dr. Nathan told me that was what happened anyhow. I was on the table while they were taking the bullet out and my heart stopped," Chris tickled his fingers on the underside of Reid's hand, "that's probably why that boss of yours likes to keep you behind a desk playing with that database of yours – the Feds do see their share of gunfire, I'm sure."

"I've been shot before and have," Reid said in a hushed voice, more in the spirit of camaraderie than as if to prove himself.

"Then you know how absolutely fucking frightening that ol' handshake with Death can be," For the first time Chris's tone was that of a peer, completely lacking in the confrontational undercurrent that flowed underneath each of their previous exchanges.

Keller looked away from Reid and scanned the room for any possible eavesdroppers. The inmates on either side of Chris were snoring contentedly and the roving C.O. had left to deal with a fight that had broken out in the other end of the wing. "I'd told him I was terrified, that scumfuck, I'd told him when I was on that operating table I'd seen Hell. I told him that I knew what I was in for once I died," For the first time it was Keller's voice that cracked and grew deeper with contained emotion. "Hell was being separated from Toby for the rest of my life and then spending eternity without him. He made sure now that's just reality." Keller sounded tired and defeated.

Before Reid could ask his question again, Keller cleared his throat and slid down in the bed as if exhausted by the confession. "I burnt my hand in the shower. All of the blood I'd spilled, all of the pain I've caused, I just needed something to remind me, I guess." Reid stared at Keller's scars filled with a mix of pity and sadness. He had nothing in common with the man, not until now anyway. Reid ran his thumb over the scars on Keller's hand as Keller held on tightly looking in the opposite direction.

"I was…"Reid began full well ready to tell Keller about Tobias, the swamp, and even the Dilaudid. Yet Reid's confession was cut short when Keller jerked his hand away from Reid. Reid's eyes shot up to Keller whose face was still turned in the direction of Dr. Nathan's office. Reid expected to see the patrolling C.O. approaching them but instead it was two new guards headed quickly to Keller's bed.

"Alright Keller, your escort has arrived back to Death Row," Each guard worked quickly and efficiently to remove Keller from the bed restraints, practically shoving Reid out of the way to reach the hand that had previous held his. "Out of bed and put your clothes on. Let's go." One of the guards flung a pile of clothing in Keller's direction.

Keller sat up slowly and with a pained grunt. Reid had rushed to his feet and stood beside the bed stunned as the back of Keller's gown fell open to reveal his well-muscled and thoroughly bruised back. Reid winced as Keller bent slowly to put on his standard gray prison-issue pants, dropping them twice before finally bending over enough to put them on.

Keller turned to face Reid as he slipped on his white waffle-weave thermal - the dark hue of his bruised side showing through the thin white material that clung to him.

As soon as Chris had gotten his feet in his boots, the guards were yanking him off the bed and forcing him in the direction of the doorway as they fastened the cuffs to his wrists. He watched Keller walk out of the Hospital Wing without a word of farewell or acknowledgement to Reid.

This, Reid thought, shouldn't bother me.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

"Dr. Reid," A sweet female voice called from behind a dark wood desk, "Warden Glynn can see you now."

As Reid stood, the door to Leo Glynn's office swung open and the warden appeared in the doorway. Leo Glynn was a physically imposing man, well over six feet tall and built with a physique, that even though it was hidden business attire, was clearly formidable. Glynn was obviously more than capable in handling himself amongst the men in Oswald but Reid still couldn't help but wonder if some of his draconian policies were not a result of his insecurity on the job. After Keller's glowing description of one Vernon Schillinger, and the crowd that followed him, Reid could only begin to imagine the kinds of trials and tribulations the mahogany-skinned warden must face on a daily basis.

"Dr. Reid, how can I help you?"

Reid shook the warden's hand before heading into his office to sit at one of the over-stuffed leather chairs in front of his desk. Reid set down his notepad and opened his file, "I'm here to discuss Chris Keller."

Glynn sat down behind his desk and reclined back in his chair looking amused. "Too bad you didn't get to witness his little show this morning. That would have given you something for you…you're writing a book?"

"No," Reid said, his temper already growing short. "I'm here on behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, we're compiling a databa…," Reid took in an exasperated breath, "That's beside the point, really. I'm here conducting a comprehensive psychological intake interview with Chris Keller before his scheduled execution next Friday."

"And let me guess, he's not cooperating? That's no surprise. I've already got Dr. Nathan looking into our options for anti-psychotics. Governor Devlin will be up my ass about spending the extra money on a Death Row inmate but really, anything that keeps Keller from beating the crap out of one of my C.O.s."

"That's why I'm here. Giving Keller drugs will only derail the purpose of my intake interview. Observations of his mental state and pathology are just as important as what Keller tells me during the interview. If Dr. Nathan medicates him it nullifies the very reason for the interview in the first place. If I was simply interested in his crimes I could have stayed back at Quantico and read his file." Reid said, his voice taking on that clipped academic timbre that usually sent his colleague, and lecture attendees, into full zone-out mode.

"I can appreciate that Dr. Reid but we're short-staffed as it is and Keller has just put one of my best C.O.s on leave while he recovers from his broken ribs and other injuries," Glynn countered, Reid's tone having its opposite effect by raising the warden's hackles and putting him on the defensive. Warden Glynn sat up in his chair and looked intently at Dr. Reid. "I cannot allow this to happen again."

"I can appreciate that as well, Warden Glynn. However, Oswald is already under the close scrutiny of the Federal government. I do not imagine that the adding the misuse and abuse of pharmaceuticals to the list would do much to lessen their grip." Reid said flipping through his notepad for affect. "I can have my superior on the phone in less than five minutes if you'd like him to detail the ramifications of this misguided decision."

"Listen, Dr. Reid," Glynn said folding his arms over his chest and reclining again in his office chair. "Keller has been starting fights and causing damage since the day he entered Oz. He's only got a week left. Now he can either spend that week in ad. seg., where you will be able to interview him through the porthole in his cell, or he can spend it on Death Row, medicated."

Reid stood, nodding curtly. "Agent Hotchner will be in touch. Thank you for your time." Reid left the warden's office, dialing Hotch from the secretary's phone and having him patched in before Reid had even left the building. By the time Reid had reached his car, Hotch was calling him to informing Reid that a deal had been reached. From now on, Reid would interview Keller from his cell on Death Row and Keller would remain without medication.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

The dread that had plagued Reid before was far from his mind when he returned to the motel and began typing out one furious email and report after another. For the first time that Reid could remember, he was ready to put his fist through the wall. The feelings of helplessness, of freefall, were infuriating at this juncture. In the past, Gideon, his mentor, had used every resource possible to try and free a female inmate from her scheduled execution and had failed. Later that week, Gideon sat in the gallery of witnesses as they strapped the woman to a chair and filled her body with currents of electricity. He'd never spoken of the details of the experience, at least not to Reid, but Reid knew his prolonged isolation in his cabin the following week spoke volumes. Keller was not innocent by any stretch of the imagination but there was something about watching him squirm in the wake of this agonizing wait that left Reid filled with the same vitriol and despair that Keller had expressed earlier in the day.

That night, Reid would not be so luck as to escape into a dreamless sleep.

_Reid winced as Keller held his hand in a vice-like grip. It wasn't until Reid looked down at their interlocked hands that he realized how badly he was shaking. His palms were wet as he looked at Keller pleading for him to loosen his grip on his hand. "Chris, you're hurting me." Reid said staring at the angry red blisters on Keller's hand, blisters as fresh as if the skin had just been seared._

"_Don't let go. Please, Dr. Reid, please don't let go." _

_The room spun around them, transforming the prison hospital into a lightless chamber. Reid was facing a wall of ugly blue-gray curtains. Keller lay stretched out before him with each of his arms pulled out from his sides and restrained at his bicep and forearm. Reid began to cry he realized that Chris was no longer in his hospital bed but fastened down to an table closely resembling a doctor's exam table with the exception that it held Chris's arms out, in a sick twist of irony, to resemble his tattoo. _

_Reid looked around the room in a panic; the I.V. machine next to him, the small bags of hanging chemicals, the solid metal door, and the stomach-churning smell of rubbing alcohol._

"_Please," Keller whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Please," Keller begged from behind another face, the face of young, blonde, college-aged boy. "Please, don't do this." Keller's visage shifted again, this time into the agony-stretched face of Tobias Beecher. "Please," Reid saw the faces from Keller's file dance before his eyes; Bryce Tibbots, Byron Lewis, Ronnie Barlong, Hank Schillinger, and several other young men Reid had never seen before. _

_The freshly burned flesh of Keller's arm crept, like a disease, up Keller's arm and up toward his face. "Please, Dr. Reid, I can't. Don't let me go!" Keller shouted as Reid was ripped from his grasp._

_Reid was now sitting in the dark gallery when the curtains were pulled back and Keller's table was raised up before him as if he was hanging on a padded cross. Reid watched in horror as the needle was plunged into his arm, and to Reid's shock, Keller began to convulse. _

"Stop!" Reid cried bolting up in bed. For the next few hours Reid would pace his room his mind bombarded with Glynn's talk of budget reductions, Keller's taunting cry to Dr. Nathan, and the fear that, if given the choice, he would not be able to sit in that gallery. It was one thing, Reid thought, to witness a death in the line of duty – that was horrifying enough. He wasn't sure if he could handle the helplessness nor the macabre attempt at justice.

Later, Reid stood under the scalding hot water of his shower wishing for his own deliverance from this hell.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So this is a short one, I'm sorry. I'm closing in on the last few days of freedom before I begin my new job and I've been preoccupied with more 'real world' sort of things. Okay, well that's not terribly honest. I've delayed my writing because 'art' (har har har) is beginning to resemble life. No, they're not hauling my off to prison (LOL) but I have been getting very little restful sleep. I think I indicated in my last note that I was kind of surprised where this story ended up but the end has never really been a secret to me (probably not to you either). I guess I'm just a little more bothered by it than I thought. Writing is nice because it's like acting that you get to do from the safety of your keyboard and without the pressure of the houselights. For those of you that stuck with me through 'Bleeding Heart' you know these hesitations and upset are nothing new for the author. Whatever. The show must go on.**

**It never fails to amaze and please me that I've actually garnered such very active and engaged readership. Your attention to detail and constructive criticism only means that you're actually reading and engaging with the words that I write and that is a huge compliment in itself. When I posted 'Word Made Flesh' I went to bed convinced that I'd wake up to find my account deleted and if that day comes in the future I will not be surprised. I view deletion of any of my works as an eventuality rather than a threat. FF could ding me for a lot of reasons, least being my ample warnings and caveats. **

**My request for PMed corrections came about for few reason: 1) I'm one of those anal-retentive freaks that is not satisfied with the mere quoting of something. Oh no, I like to highlight things up and really send the message on home. I was silly in assuming that if someone wanted to make corrections or point out errors that they'd think along the same lines. 2) Once the work is corrected, the review pointing out the errors is still there. I think it's lame/disrespectful to delete reviews so in that vein, a PM just made more sense. 3) Making public corrections under the guise of educating the masses, as noble as it sounds, is kind of a moot point if the masses don't understand the principles/rules behind the edits. Let's be honest, turning an author's review board into a grammar lesson is…an interesting idea.**

**As much as a writer may view their work as their 'dominion', the internet is still a fairly free place (thank God), and that means folks can say and do pretty much whatever they like and that is how it should be. My requests and warnings are just my suggestions and were never meant to discourage free and productive speech. **

**And to my newest reviewer who listed her creds: is that you're sneaky way of offering to BETA? LOL. I'm only kidding if you are. ;)**


	8. Small Enough for a Baitfish

**WARNING: Spoilers for the CM episode,'Revelations' and the standard spoilers for the entirety of Oz. This chapter also contains brief mention of pedophilia, drug use, and child abuse – I do not belabor these topics but they are mentioned.**

If there was a bright spot at all in Dr. Reid's day it was that Officer Mineo had been the one to escort him to Keller's new location; through Emerald City, past the meeting rooms, past Sr. Pete's office, down a dark and rusty set of stairs, and into a hallway that was lined with banks of gray bars.

"Dr. Reid I've set this extra radio to my frequency, when you're ready just press this page button and I'll be down to escort you out." Mineo looked Reid over. Reid's hands were busy picking away at little pieces of the file folder in his hands.

"The warden has given strict instructions that the guards should remain at a distance for your interview," Mineo parroted but broke into a more conciliatory tone when he informed Reid, "I won't be far off and frankly, I wouldn't be too far away at all if I thought you were in any danger. Keller's gift is runnin' his mouth, and you're the only one he sees, save the meal cart and mail delivery. He knows that if something goes wrong he'll spend his last days stripped and in the hole." Mineo unlocked the barred gate that stood between them and a wall of empty prison cell, except one.

Keller was reclined on his cot, slowly thumbing through a copy of Hustler.

"Keller, you're appointment is here," Mineo said in a sarcastic tone.

"Tell the warden he can go fuck himself," Keller said unbuttoning the top button if gray pants.

Reid cleared his throat, "I'll be sure to do that the next time I see him."

Keller lowered the magazine slowly, his eyes peering over the pages like a lion hidden in the savannah brush. "So they let you come back, huh?"

"Yes, is that OK? Are you still willing to complete the interview?" Reid asked honestly before crossing the threshold into Keller's cell. Reid wasn't trying to be coy or feign heightened professionalism in front of the C.O., no. Really, it was just that being locked in a small concrete and metal cage with someone who didn't want you there, that was a scenario Reid wanted to avoid.

"Yeah, never had someone ask permission before coming in my cell," Keller said in a sly tone while looking straight at Officer Mineo.

Mineo slapped the radio into Reid's hand before backing out and locking it. "Take however long you need, doctor."

As soon as Mineo was out of earshot, Keller stretched in his bed looking lazily at Reid, "Yes Dr. Reid, take however long you like." Keller smiled when Reid flushed, started to look down at his notepad, corrected himself, and settled for looking away. Reid took a step backward, shuddering in discomfort when the chill of the bars touched his back – the cold burning through his vest and shirt. Reid looked around the room hoping to find a slightly more comfortable place to stand, however the space was seriously limited. Reid settled for leaning up against the sink and trying to avoid acknowledging the toilet that was tucked snuggly next to it.

Keller took in the uncomfortable Dr. Reid and in a show of capitulation, sat up against the head of the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. "Would you like to sit down?" He cocked his head in the direction of the empty foot of the bed.

Reid's thoughts were screaming out the million and one things wrong with this situation_. It wouldn't matter to him_, Reid thought as he sat down hesitantly. _He could just as easily add me to his list and nothing would change for him._

As Reid sat as an honorary guest on Death Row he couldn't help but pause on the irony that he was the one with the most to lose in this situation. Just as Chris had relished the games he played with Beecher and Sr. Pete, he could just as easily have strung Reid along until this moment. Reid's freshly healed knee burned as he flashed on the exquisite pain that Beecher must have suffered under this man's grasp on the gym floor.

Reid looked Keller over cautiously as he walked toward the cot and took a seat at the very end of the foot of the bed.

"Creepy place, right?" Keller's predatory gaze melted when he mirrored Reid's actions and looked around the cell quickly – he almost sounded as if he were trying to comfort Reid. Reid straightened his back, losing his balance, and practically falling off the foot of the bed in the process.

"Shirley Bellinger was the person in this cell before me. There was a while when the warden was letting us pick from any number of ways we wanted to die, which if you ask me is nothing new, the warden provides each and every inmate in Oz many ways to meet their maker every day. She chose to be hanged. Someone told me that McManus talked her into the idea but that sounds pretty sick even for McManus. Lopresti was there to witness the execution. He told anyone who would listen about how when she got onto the platform she started to cry and beg. He said she made it halfway down the stairs of the platform before they carried her back. They held her almost until the trap door opened," Keller said, somewhere in between horror and fascination when Reid failed to suppress one of his many shivers.

Keller shook his head in empathetic disgust," I know, Lopresti was one sick fuck."

"Is," Reid said not even thinking. "You didn't kill him, Chris." Reid clarified looking seriously at Keller.

"Shit, naw, doc that isn't what I mean. I don't ever have to see that scumfuck again – he might as well be dead. That was the last time in my life I'll ever have to see him." Keller said sounding as if he was trying to convince them both that there was a positive side to the impending date.

Reid nodded, "I think I understand. Last time you were telling me about your hand….would you like to continue?" Reid said gesturing toward Keller's fist that was sitting clenched at his side. Keller relaxed his legs, pushing them out toward the foot of the bed, putting them inches away from Reid's thigh. Reid straightened again, resting precariously on the edge of the foot of the bed with his back against the concrete of the opposite wall.

"The last time I saw Toby, he'd come to one of those meeting rooms during visiting hours. He brought me socks," Chris wiggled his toes in Reid direction bring his attention to a small hole at the tip of his big toe. "He'd gotten me off Death Row just weeks before. I told him I owed him my life. First thing I do when I get back to gen. pop. is hunt down that little shit, Winthrop. That stupid prag killed Beecher's father as he was leaving Death Row, after counseling me. I was happy to do it as much for Beecher as I was to pay the memory of his father back." Reid's eye's narrowed on Keller at the perverse rearrangement of justice.

"You told Beecher this and he decided to turn you in?" Reid said not so much as failing to make the connection but to admit to the glaringly obvious missing piece of the puzzle.

Keller ran his hands over his face, retracing his steps and pressing curiously at the large bruise at his temple. "I told him that my ex-wife was sick. That was true. She died earlier this year. I asked Toby to pick up a dose of these research cancer drugs. I'd called in an anonymous tip but Beecher never showed – violating his parole would have gotten him sent back here to Oz," Keller said wistfully until his mind must have moved forward in the narrative. Without warning, Keller's face darkened, he looked down at the magazine laying between he and Reid, throwing it across the room, "Shit! He sent his fucking secretary instead! So now I have to explain to him why his secretary is in County for dealing in illegal pharmaceuticals. By the end of the week I was back in court for the murder of Barlog and Schillinger's kid and Toby was up there on the stand spilling his guts." Keller's voice grew thick with disgust and emotion as he looked in the direction of his sink.

"Chris, I…" Reid began before Keller cut him off.

"No, Reid. Just don't. I fucking deserve what I got. I tried to take his kids away from him, his new girlfriend, his chance at a halfway, goddamn decent life. I tried to take away everything that I'll never have a chance at, no matter how good I am, or how many of McManus's bullshit programs I join. I am in here until I die and being with Beecher, that's probably the only good these walls have seen in a long time. I know you won't believe me, you got no reason to, but I loved him." Keller stood abruptly and began to pace the short distance between the bed, to the cell door, the sink, and back again. Keller's sock-clad feet pounded out each frustration-filled step as Reid sat there seriously considering a quick emergency page on the radio that Mineo had left behind.

Reid teetered on the edge of the bed and rose to his feet to regain his balance, putting his back against the cement wall, the cell bars to one side, the bed to the other, and Keller striding directly toward him. Keller stopped just inches from Reid's face. Reid had risen to his feet meaning to pick up his notepad and radio once he was standing steadily. As it was, both the radio and his paperwork lay on the bed and out of his reach. Keller followed Reid's gaze down to the radio.

"Do you think they'll get here in time?" He said, enjoying the sight of color draining from Reid's face.

Keller moved closer, staring Reid down, like a cat watching a mouse run in circles. Reid coughed and took in a deep breath as the air between them took on a sweltering humidity. "Yesterday you wanted me to hold your hand in a hospital bed and now we're back to this, the posturing alpha male behavior? I told you, Chris. I've spent my life in the crosshairs of bigger egos than yours. Now either make good on your threat or step back." Reid practically spat the last words at Keller.

"Look at you, Reid," Keller spoke in a voice much like the one you would use to praise a child, placing his palm against the wall and right next to Reid's face. Keller's arm successfully blocking Reid from his file and the radio, "changing minds all over the place – I bet you would fair just fine in here after a few days. Whose mind did you change to get into this position, hm?" Keller's hand stayed flat on the wall as it moved just a breath away from the doctor's head, so close Reid could feel the heat of Keller's skin on his cheek. "Does that big brain, and constantly moving mouth of yours, get you in a lot of trouble? Is that how you ended up in Oz interviewing me, you piss off the wrong alpha male?"

Reid looked at Keller's arm, so close to his face, and followed the lean muscle all the way to the broad connecting shoulder and up to Keller's challenging blue eyes. "What makes you think that I didn't choose this assignment?" Reid said trying to maintain his scholarly air.

"Because, genius, I think you would run out of here faster than I could, if given the chance," Keller's hand came to Reid's waist, fingering the snap on his belt where a holster should be. "I bet you're a lousy shot but just good enough that you feel stripped," Keller's yanked on the buckle of Reid's belt to emphasize his point, pressing Reid against him, "absolutely naked without it." Keller whispered, his breath hot on Reid's ear. "Or maybe you are telling the truth. You're supposed to be able to get inside the heads of the bad guys, right?" Keller chuckled before nosing Reid's ear, enjoying the shiver that ran through Reid's body causing him to practically vibrate against Keller.

"Maybe," Keller whispered unable to resist the urge to press his hips flush to Reid's slender form, "maybe that boss of yours knows just what it's like inside my head. I bet he knew that I'd look at you and imagine your soft, pale skin under my hands, the little mews and screams you'd make as I bit into your skin, and how you'd shiver and beg me to never stop once I'd started on you. He knows that's what I'd want because he wants it too."

Reid took in a shaky breath before placing both hands on Keller's shoulders, "I think you should sit back down. You're not intimidating me," Reid's tone softened, became more sympathetic as he squeezed Keller's shoulders lightly, "Besides these circumstances are miserable enough without moving it all to ad. seg."

Keller arched a curious eyebrow at Reid, looking incredulously at either hand on his shoulder. Keller's expression became threatening as he moved his face slowly toward Reid only stopping when their lips were a scant distance apart. For a moment Reid feared that if Keller began to speak their lips would meet. Keller stood there taking in the experience; Reid's warm lithe frame that trembled occasionally, the dampness of Reid's palms slick against Keller's exposed shoulders, and the delectable heat of having someone so close. "I think the memories of what I would do to you before the hacks came to save you would be well worth spending the rest of my life in the hole, the entire week that's left of it."

When Keller's free hand left Reid's belt and pressed flat against his abdomen, traveling slowly up Reid's chest and landing at his throat. Reid began to panic, his voice cracking as he spoke quickly, "You know what Hell is like, I do too. Hell is being tied to a chair while a video camera sends a feed of your suffering and humiliation back to the closest representation of a family, of a father, that you've ever know. Hell," Reid said shaking in fear and rage at the memory of Hankel, "is coming back from the abyss that lies beyond life only to be pumped full of drugs and forced to watch the slaughter of innocent people. Hell is being addicted to drugs you had no choice in taking." Keller's hand came to cup Reid's cheek at that admission as he looked on Reid with a kind of curious awe.

"Go ahead Keller, really. There isn't anything you could do to me that I haven't experienced or seen lying cold at my feet at a crime scene." Reid jerked his head away from Keller's hand, coming to face the arm that was still holding him at a distance from the radio. "Go ahead and do it, Chris - save me from the hell of sitting by helpless as I watch yet another person die." Reid said honestly.

Keller's hand that had divided Reid from the foot of the bed, and his radio, moved to cradle the other side of Reid's face. "I don't want you there." Keller said firmly, his thumb running over the prominent ridge of Reid's cheekbone. "I've told my exes and I'll tell you, I don't want you there." Reid closed his eyes unable to meet the piercing blue ones that were so intimidating and so close. Reid held his breath as he felt Keller press in close and his lips graze his. Before Reid could register what had happened, he was standing with the radio pressed to his chest and Keller was sitting back on the bed, refusing to look at Reid.

Footfalls came quickly down the hall in the direction Chris's cell. Mineo rounded the corner, nightstick drawn, and ready to find a disaster in play. "Dr. Reid?" He inquired as Reid stood, still pressed against the cell wall, his face flushed red.

"Yes, Officer Mineo. Thank you for coming so quickly. Nothing is wrong. Keller and I both need a break. Could you show me to where I could get some water and use the facilities?" Mineo unlocked the cell door looking at both men with deep suspicion.

"Sure, Dr. Reid," Mineo slammed the cell door shut. "Keller your lunch is on its way."

#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Reid stood in the dingy, paint-chipped, bathroom and splashed water on his face repeatedly hoping that the chill of the water would erase the feeling of Keller's warm breath against his cheek and ghost of Keller's lips on his.

Mineo's nightstick rapped on the bathroom door startling Reid.

"Everything alright Dr. Reid?" Mineo called through the door.

"Be right out." Reid called as he dried his hands and headed in the direction of the door.

Mineo commiserated with Reid on the lack of decent food in Oz and the array of crap in the multitude of vending machines in the visiting rooms and staff lounge.

When they reached Keller's cell, Chris was laying down on his side facing the cement wall that Reid had rested against less than an hour ago. Mineo unlocked the door and allowed Reid to step inside, handing off his radio before turning hesitantly to leave the two alone.

"Chris?" Reid asked quietly, almost afraid that Keller had not heard him.

Keller sat up and turned to rest against the concrete wall, his feet dangling off the side of the bed. "I think I'm losing my mind, Dr. Reid. Ask me your questions before I'm nuts and you can't get anything out of me." Keller said sounding more defeated rather than flippant.

"Okay," Reid walked confidently toward the cot and sat down next to Keller, spreading the file and notepad over his lap. "You told me you were in Lardner when you were seventeen, tell me about your high school experience."

Keller's mouth curved up in that by-now-familiar Cheshire cat grin, "Really, Dr. Reid? I'm sitting on Death Row and you want to know if I was ever late to homeroom?" Chris sighed and looked over at Reid who stared back unaffected. "Okay, okay. When I was there it was alright. I was the star on the wrestling team for awhile but I was gone more than I was there so they kicked me off the team after a few meets…"Reid interrupted before Keller could continue.

"Your parents didn't notice that you had stopped going to school?" Reid asked.

"My father, the old man, was a dirtbag piece-of-work. He chased off my mom, well, beat her right out the door, more like when I was a baby. Funny, you'd think that I'd hate the man beating me every night but I hated her. I hated her for leaving me behind to deal with what she couldn't. Then again, it's harder to fall in bed with someone who will pay your bills with a brat hanging around your heels." Keller pulled an orange from under his pillow and began to worry the small pieces of the skin.

"Did you ever run away?" Reid said looking over the dry questionnaire in his lap.

Keller looked at Reid disbelievingly. "Yeah, I don't know how old I was, young enough to get that bastard thrown in Lardner right next to me, that's for sure. He started out getting me to peddle weed and blow to the preppy kids for their parties. After I got kicked off the team, the dregs of the school kind of swarmed me. He took advantage of that. He knew the old man – well, he dealt him the shit he put up his nose and they'd hang out sometimes and get drunk. When I left," Keller was now tearing the skin from the orange and dropping it off the side of the bed, "he took me in swearing word would not get back to my old man. Though I never thought for a second that he'd drop me back off at my house, a note pinned to my shirt about what a lousy lay I was."

Reid was writing quickly as Chris spoke but stopped and choked out a cough with Keller's last admission. "Are you telling me he raped you?" Reid asked looking at Keller who was avoiding his gaze by picking the white veins from the tender flesh of the orange resting in his palm. "He and Schillinger like the power part of sex so I put up a good fight and they got what they wanted, and I got the protection I needed."

"You ended up in Lardner because of a drug charge, were you dealing for the same man?" Reid bumbled out the first question he could think of, trying to end the thick silence that hung between them.

Keller jerked forward from the concrete wall, sitting forward quickly, his sock-covered feet hitting the cold floor with a smack. He put his elbows on his knees and hung his head between his legs as if he was fighting the urge to pass out. Reid watched as Keller's back began to jerk and shiver with silent sobs. Reid closed his notepad and the file and dropped them on the cement floor at the foot of Keller's bed. Reid moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to Keller.

"The three men that Agent Taylor had questioned you about," Reid said fighting the urge to cringe when his voice seemed to bounce off the walls, dancing in endless reverberations of the question Reid did not want the answer to. Reid had seen the pictures, read the coroner's report, and read in between the lines of the case notes. The UnSub they were looking for was about Chris's age at the time and he was angry.

"The man they were looking for was white, from an impoverished, and possibly industrial, urban area. The UnSub displayed a level of comfort and skill when working with his hands and in situations that required mechanical thinking – he's likely attended trade classes, possibly while incarcerated." Reid spoke as if informing an enclave of police detectives and not, as it were, the man in question.

Keller turned to look at Reid, appearing puzzled and wounded by the sudden turn in the line of questioning. Reid held Keller's gaze as he continued, "Due to the violent nature of his sexual assaults on these men, your UnSub will also most likely be in your records as a child in a domestic dispute or neglect case. You already know this man, he's grown up with you – with the system."

Keller's became empty and hollow as they narrowed their focus on Dr. Reid, leaving Reid questioning if he'd gone too far.

Then in a blink of an eye Keller's demeanor changed and Keller was smiling again, "I'm sure glad that you were still in diapers when those cases were active," Keller said nudging Reid playfully. He split the orange apart and held one half over Reid's hands. Reid shook head, "No, thanks."

Keller shrugged and bit into the orange, using the back of his hand to wipe away the stray drops of juice that dotted his chin. Keller's transition from despair to carefree ignorance was astonishing to Reid. "All this talk about me," Keller said licking the back of his hand like a cat getting the last drops of blood from its paw. "I'd love to know more about you, like why you agreed to come here?"

"Your governor isn't the only one pulling this political stunt, two other states are having similar experiences so everyone on the team is involved in the intake interviews and I was sent here." Reid said trying to sound disinterested as he watched the small drops of liquid hit the dry floor beneath their feet, as Keller slowly devoured the remaining orange slices.

"Does that bother you personally, Dr. Reid?" Keller said sitting back to rest his hands behind him on the bed.

"There is no simple answer to that, Chris." Reid said avoiding the multi-layered and highly conditional justification for his belief system.

"Okay, fair enough. Why don't you tell about how scared, and absolutely hot, you were while I had you pinned against that wall?" Keller said in a conversational tone as he turned to face Reid.

"You're not going to do this," Reid meant it to sound like a firm demand; he was drawing a line the sand which Keller would not cross. In actuality, Reid's voice sounded pleading. Reid shifted back on the bed, his back once again, up against the cold concrete wall. Reid knew all he had to do was bring his feet back and off the bed. The radio was sitting on the ground on top of his discarded notepad and file.

"Do what? Behave myself?" He chuckled and moved closer to Reid, rising fluidly onto his knees and closing the gap between them. "Hurt you?" Chris growled moving his face nearly nose to nose with Reid. Keller tilted Reid's head up, brushing his lips over Reid's as he spoke, "Or tell you how lucky you were that I never visited your college town."

"I was teenager for my first degree, I wouldn't have been anywhere near the bars you frequented. I was in the Bureau by the time I was in your interest range."

"Which one them tried to fuck you first?" Keller said with a half-cocked grin, pulling back, putting himself at arms length to savor Reid's indignation, "Was it the one you keep talking about, or the one who got you special permission to meet unsupervised with a suspected murderer of boys like yourself? I bet it was Contestant B, huh? He can't do it so the next best thing is hearing about it from you or a hospital log in a case file. Then he can get all the gory details and blame all the ugliness on someone else?"

Reid hadn't even noticed at what point Keller had shifter up onto his knees from his sitting position, one slide of Keller's knee toward Reid, and before Reid knew it he was cornered with Keller straddling his lap. Keller's hand gripping Reid's side as the other found its way to toying with buckle of Reid's belt. "I'll leave marks on each piece of you that I've tasted so he can follow along down your body while he reads the report. " To punctuate the completion of his thought, Reid felt the first button on his slacks come undone. Reid had to act quickly.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the only idea that aroused you, Chris." Reid said trying to keep his voice clinical, neutral. "You just spent the last hour telling me about how anyone in a position of power over you has expressed it through violent and unwanted sexual advances. What would be surprising is if you hadn't adopted those methods as your own form of gaining release." Reid let out a thankful sigh as Keller leaned back on his heels, putting some distance between them.

Keller was of the bed and on his feet, pacing between the bed, sink, and barred door before Reid could continue.

"Fuck," Keller swore as he charged the few steps to the cell door and back again. "I told Barlog as much. Killing them, seeing them lying there in the dirt, I knew they'd never tell my secrets and that part of me was gone with them. " Chris yelled, loud enough, Reid thought, to alert Mineo. Keller looked at Reid defeated before folding his arms up against the wall and resting his head in them like a child waiting to begin the count for hide-and-seek. "Schillinger wanted me to destroy Beecher's life by getting him to lapse back into alcohol. Funny, that in the end Beecher would be the one to take my life away." As Keller went on Reid busied himself by righting his clothing, gathering up his paperwork and then laying his hand down hard on the pager button of the radio. "I wanted to be good for him, to live out the rest of my life with him in relative peace. I know that soun…" Chris was interrupted by the loud clap of boots traveling quickly toward his cell.

"Everything alright, Dr. Reid?" Mineo called before reaching Keller's cell.

"Yes, thanks. Everything is fine. Our session is over for today." Reid stepped through the door before Mineo had stepped back completely, causing him to push past the guard with his files.

"Dr. Reid?" Keller's voice was thick with emotion.

Reid looked away refusing to meet Keller's eyes before leaving the room.

"Reid!" Keller called after him, and continued to yell long after Reid had left. When the echo of Chris's cries died down, the hollow cement space filled with a thick silence. Keller was ready to claw at the walls in frustration but settled for ripping the thin mattress off his cot and stomping it repeatedly in frustration.

That night neither man would enjoy a restful sleep.

**A/N: So this one must be the longest yet and for some reason I feel like nothing happened. LOL. Or is that just me? Thanks again to all the thoughtful reviews, comments, and consistent readership – it's very very appreciated. **


	9. Catch and Release

**WARNING: Standard cautions about language, sexual content, and spoilers apply. **

The file folder landed in the back of Reid's rented sedan with a splat, the bruised and muddied bodies of the' unsolved' murders slid out of the file and all over the backseat. Reid tried to find everything that needed to be done before he set out rather than acknowledge the grotesque photos spread out over the backseat. Before throwing his suitcase into the backseat, Reid begrudgingly gathered up the photos to put them back in the case file.

Reid had tried not to open it. The last thing he wanted to see was Keller with that look on his face – staring him down even through ink and paper. The difference from the living-breathing man and the photo in the file were night and day. Reid stared at Keller's photo in a way he knew he'd never get away with in their day-to-day interactions. It wasn't that Keller wouldn't allow it, to the contrary, actually Keller would have encouraged it with every profane words in his vocabulary. The weight of Keller, against him, over him, and on his lap stung at Reid's memory as his gaze clung to the old photo in his hands. Reid shook his head and looked down at those blue eyes one more time - 'living-breathing' was such a poor choice of words. Reid shut the case file and resolved himself to a mind free of Chris Keller for the next two days. Well, right after he was done meeting Hotch to provide a status update for the case.

On the way to Hotch's office all Reid could think about was Keller's mention of Hotch. True, he hadn't mentioned the Unit Chief by name, he really didn't know anything about the team at all, Reid tried to reason. Still the continuous play of those words in his head. The idea of how close Reid had come to that being a reality was the more unsettling thought on Reid's mind. Reid had seen it happen before with Elle and with Gideon, Hotch sitting at his desk looking over a newly-minted case file created just so the Bureau could put a tidy end on an otherwise chaotic situation. Reid could just as easily imagine Hotch sitting behind his gloomily official desk and pouring over the results of Reid's exam, which he had received upon being admitted to some anonymous hospital. Reid tried his best not to entertain the idea that Hotch would enjoy hearing the details of his injuries, in any circumstance.

Reid had been mentally kicking himself ever since he'd left the hospital that day. No one else on the team would have been so foolish as to let that happen. No one else on the team would have agreed to enter into an unsupervised meeting space, unarmed, and with the knowledge of the previous day's events. Reid should have seen this coming and part of Reid wasn't totally convinced that he didn't see it coming. The first night of fitful sleep should have been warning enough, of course, that would be on top of the ample warnings he had from the thick case file that accompanied him everywhere.

As Reid pulled into the lot of the FBI Building, he was resolved not to mention a word of the last encounter with Keller. He would convince Hotch to swap out him for Morgan. Morgan would be able to identify with Keller's hard-scrabble beginnings, the victimization in the absence of a father-figure, and the unfair treatment from local law enforcement. Reid nodded to himself as he solidified the pitch in his head. Reid was prepared to overcome Hotch's doubts on the success of the switch, given Morgan's law enforcement background, his equally impressive physique, and any latent reservations he might have regarding Keller's receptiveness due to his dealings with Vern Schillinger. Yes, Reid thought, as he ran over the talking points once again in his mind – it would be a hard sell but Reid was convinced he could do it. After all, he had just completed a week-long training in the art of verbal sparring with Chris Keller. Reid was sure this meeting would be infinitely easier for the sheer fact that he didn't have to worry about being accosted by his superior. Reid laughed out loud and then just as quickly felt his stomach lurch as the image of his last meeting with Keller stepped to the forefront of his thoughts.

Upon entering their work area, Reid was taken aback by the stillness of the room. Regardless of the day of the week, the bullpen was a rush of people and paperwork; teams arriving from cases, individual agents engaged in phone or webchat consultations, and his other team members either scrambling for their away-gear or settling into the mountain of paperwork that waited at the conclusion of every case. As it were, a few scattered agents sat at their desks fully absorbed in post-case paperwork. Reid felt his stomach clench and his nerves simmer when he looked up at the widow of Hotch's office and saw the lights on. It wasn't as if he thought Hotch was not going to be there –no, remember Reid was prepared for this.

After two knocks on Hotch's door, Reid cracked the door open, and Hotch gestured for Reid to come in and take a seat.

"Thank you. Yes. I will speak to my team and have an update for you in forty-eight hours. "Hotch looked over at Reid and narrowed his eyes as if to indicate his frustration with the caller. "Yes. Yes, thank you. I will be in touch." Hotch hung up the phone with a poorly-contained sigh of exasperation.

"How was your drive back?" Hotch asked trying to turn his focus to the young man in front of him.

"It was alright, not much traffic." Reid said, "Funny thing, did you know that each motorist loses an average of nine hundred dollars a year due to road congestion and wait-time and that the U.S. economy actually loses around seventy-two trillion dollars in lost labor, wages, and other positive economic activity?" Reid chuckled, nervously breathing in harshly through his nose as he continued, "so really if they're talking to you about budget cuts for the next fiscal year they may want to consider what that would mean on the larger scale if we drove everywhere. The jet is really the most practical answer to that…"

Hotch interjected, "Reid it's a two hour drive, hardly worthy of taking the jet." Hotch said, grateful for the bit of levity that Reid had inadvertently brought to the day. Hotch quickly contained the on-coming smile and looked at Reid seriously, "I know that this assignment is a tough for each member of the team given the unrealistic timeframe and the challenges with the interviewees, in general," Hotch caught himself rambling and lookded Reid directly in the eye, which only confirmed his suspicion when Reid pulled away from the eye contact, almost immediately. "What's going on Reid?"

Reid found his gaze flitting anxiously around the room like a bird suddenly trapped in a crowded building. When he tried to occupy his thoughts on the notebook in his hands he could almost hear Keller's voice, _"If you're gonna ask me something like that, the least you could do is look at me!"_ Reid could hear the sound of the scattered paper on the meeting room floor, Keller's angry blue eyes that seemed to deeped in color depending on his intensity, and finally, the weight of him on Reid's lap.

Reid stopped hesitating and blurted out, "I want you to reassign me. I want you to send Morgan in my place. Of all the team members Morgan has just as many, if not more, rapport-building points than I do. I am certain that Keller's pervious associations with Schillinger, and the White Power Movement inside Oz, has nothing to do with his personal beliefs. .."

Hotch held up his hand. "And you think even if Keller was a vitriolic racist, that even still Morgan would be safer than you are now." It wasn't so much a question as an observation and before Reid could refute Hotch's claim, the older man continued, "Has Keller threatened you? You've mentioned in your reports that conversations have often become emotional and at times confrontational. Has Keller crossed any lines that would lead you to believe that his impending execution would increase the likelihood of his displaying violent or dangerous behaviors towards you?"

_He can't do it, so the next best thing is hearing about it from you or a hospital log in a case file._

Reid looked over his notes, because he could get away with it, and because it helped with the illusion that he was entertaining both options. Answering in the affirmative, well, that wouldn't put an end to Reid suffering any less. Yes, that is exactly what he wanted to do, spend his Saturday afternoon filling out incident reports and detailing the several overt sexual advances made towards him by a man who …. Reid couldn't finish that. He knew the danger he was facing, Keller had all but told him what he was capable of. Keller, like a lot of men in Oz, was like a petulant teenager that had outgrown the body that made his behaviors excusable and slightly less threatening. Keller was violent and angry when he was feeling frightened, upset, or vulnerable…all of the stereotypical attributes that came to mind with a hyper-masculine male. Keller's behavior was unsettling, and at times frightening, but so was Keller's impending and fast-approaching fate.

"Given the circumstances, I would say that Keller is behaving normally. I have no reason to suspect that his impending execution will cause him to be violent toward me." Reid minced, clipped, and perfected his words and that statement was about as close as he would get to the truth. "No, sir. I think I can complete the interview."

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he looked Reid over like an eagle assessing its descent, and then stood to escort Reid out of his office. "Alright, Reid, I expect I'll see you back here on Thursday night. Call me immediately if anything changes."

Hotch pulled back allowing Reid to pass him and exit the office but before Reid was out of reach, Hotch put a hand on Reid's shoulder – Reid stopped himself before he could jerk out of reach. Hotch's warm hand rubbed in a tight circle on Reid's back," I'm proud of you, Reid. I know this wasn't an easy assignment and you've been very successful in gathering the information you have so far. I am sad to say that I am never surprised by the similarities in the stories that emerge during these interviews. You've gotten him to be honest with you, which is more than a great many people can say. I'm sorry that this is the only way it could be done – for both of you." Reid looked out into the empty bullpen fighting the emotion that was gnawing at his throat. It wasn't too late to beg Hotch to send someone else, to tell him that he'd lied, and that he was certain the only thing guaranteed with Keller besides vulgarity, was unpredictability.

Instead Reid absorbed the reassurance and left to return to his car, then on to his apartment to spend the next twenty-four hour divesting himself of as much of Chris Keller as he possibly could.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

_The routine._ In Oz there wasn't much to depend on other than The Routine. You might not know if you'd make it into the next day for tomorrow's repeat of The Routine but there sure as hell was something comforting about it. Keller had no such routine. Sure, you'd think meals would be something to set his clock by but at times those were infrequent as well. Currently, the Homeboys, or the drug-pushing Black inmates of Oz that would just as willingly shank one of Vern Schillinger's men as they would the self-anointed Imam, Kareem Said, were the ones running the kitchen. If you believed, as some did, that Keller was responsible for the death of Mondo Browne then you'd know why Keller's meals could be infrequent or non-existent depending on who got assigned to the meal cart. Keller didn't complain - the gnawing hunger was a welcome distraction from the persistent gnaw of death on Keller's mind.

Keller had come up with various ways of physically exhausting himself, usually consisting of strength exercises and multiple retreads of the well-worn Hustler magazine he'd been thumbing through the last time he'd seen Dr. Reid. And that was really it, wasn't it? It wasn't so much the plasticized babes spread open in various poses. No, it was Reid. Reid watching him unaware as he unashamedly began to touch himself before Mineo had alerted him to their presence. It was Reid trying not to look at the magazine left purposefully open on Keller's bed as they sat there and talked. It was that boyishly look of disgust that Reid tried so hard to plaster to his face when he finally did give into the urge to comb over the open pages. It was seeing that magazine discarded, teetering at the foot of his bed, as Keller sat astride Reid indulging in some familiar pleasures.

Keller's disinterest dissipated slowly into arousal as he entertained that image a little longer. For someone as lean as Reid, Keller was surprised at how warm he felt under his hands. Keller took in a deep breath allowing the details of Reid to become more vivid. He smelled good. Keller had noticed it the first time he'd walked into the meeting room. Pleasant scents of any kind were so foreign in Oz that even the faintest hint of sweetness or spice overwhelmed the senses.

Had Keller been afforded the time, he would have buried his nose in the young man's neck, to inhale every last bit of that scent and then to run his teeth, lips and tongue along Reid's neck and collarbone. Keller dropped the old magazine to the floor as he imagined the rush of Reid's blood pulsing against his lips as Keller sunk his teeth into the younger man's neck.

Keller would make good on his promise to mark Reid up. He'd leave behind bites so perfect that Reid, and his fellow agents, would be looking at those black and blue kiss-shaped marks for weeks. Keller dipped his hand below the waistband of his pants, running an encouraging hand over his rapidly hardening length.

He could just see Reid shifting uncomfortably in his chair, concealed in a long series of gray cubes, filled with anxiety over what he'd allowed to happen. Keller had seen that look before, that blushing, shy, and evasive look. Reid had done such a poor job at trying extricate himself from Keller's grasp before. Keller knew the type. Reid needed to still have a way to deny it, not so much to others as to himself. Keller knew all about that.

So that's why Keller would be generous to the sweet young doctor; he'd let Reid struggle, to try and distract Keller with his bullshit theories, and maybe issue a few weak threats before Keller would swallow all of the doctor's words, silencing Reid with kisses that would leave him panting and clawing at Keller.

Chris closed his eyes as his hand picked up its teasingly slow pace. The contact of their lips had been brief, but not short enough to stop Chris from imagining what those soft pink lips would feel like pressed against his mouth or, better yet, stretched around his aching cock as Reid's big green eyes looked up at him filled with tears. The idea of tangling his hand in that short, and always disheveled, hair as he forced himself down Reid's throat had Keller approaching the edge faster than he would have liked.

Keller took his hand off his aching prick and ran his tongue over the palm of his hand, wishing it was the young doctor instead. As Keller thrust into his spit-slicked hand he could see Reid pressed into mattress of his cot as Keller thrust into him. Chris wasn't sure which would be more satisfying; watching Reid struggle and cry as he hit that place inside of him that to Reid's embaressment would eventually make his toes curl his orgasm to spill guiltily over Keller's hand; or he'd take his time with Reid, kissing, licking and driving him out of his mind until he begged Chris to enter him. The last image of a pliant and wanton Dr. Reid begging for him had Chris spilling over his swift moving fist.

Keller's drawn out moan of release reverberated against the cold cement hallway, only to die out moments later. Keller licked the sticky fluid from his hand before turning to the cold wall, falling into a catnap filled with images of all of the ways he could have played with the young Dr. Reid.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Sunday night arrived all too quickly for Dr. Reid. He'd torn through books, edited and re-edited a few academic papers, and generally tried to engage in any and all activities that would keep his mind off of the impending coldness of Oz and the mesmerizing stare of Chris Keller.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Reid had been up most of the night trying to keep his mind off of the coming morning and his next interview with Keller. His alarm had gone off after Reid had managed to squeeze a couple paltry hours of sleep from the nighttime hours.

Reid too had fallen into a kind of familiar routine; he started by divesting his messenger bag ,and anything else he was taking into Oz, of anything that could be easily weaponized, which included metal pens and neckties. Reid's wardrobe had streamlined itself out of necessity; vests, slacks, dress shirts, and a single pair of brown loafers that were terribly inadequate for keeping out the ever-present cold of Oz. Reid had been tempted to add on a sweater or something else. _Another layer to get through, I suppose._

He'd stopped debating bringing his notepad but decided this time he would leave Keller's file behind. From what little Keller's file provided on his childhood, Reid knew he wasn't trying to put one over on him with his survey answers. Keller seemed less and less interested in lying to Reid, in general. Reid wondered if his openness was part of his manipulation tactics. _Is that how he got Beecher into the gym, a sob story about his childhood? Doubtful._

When the metal gate slammed shut behind Dr. Reid after his security check, he barely gave it any acknowledgement. Yes, it was still frightening to be locked into a building, a building that just ten years earlier had blown-up into chaos and rioting over revoked rights and a game of checkers. At least that is what he'd gleaned from the background Garcia had prepared for him on the fly.

Reid could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he walked down the last few stairs and into the final hallway of Death Row. The guard that had escorted Reid stopped at the bottom of the stairs and let Reid continue on alone. All of the guards had been given orders to stay away, Reid figured, after the altercation in the previous week with Officer Lopresti.

Reid arrived at Keller's cell only to find the door open and Keller missing. Dr. Reid only had moments to contemplate Keller's whereabouts before the sound of two pairs of feet came trundling down the stairs and right into the young doctor.

There stood Christopher Keller; dripping wet, wearing his boots, loose and unlaced, and a white towel that he skillfully tucked inside itself, leaving both of his hands free to be cuffed behind his back. Reid couldn't help but look the guard over incredulously as the guard glared back at him, "What are you doing down here? You're not supposed to be down here! Visiting hours start at eleven and they sure as hell ain't down here." The guard let go of Keller and began to try and hustle Reid out of the corridor and back up the stairs.

Reid quickly dislodged his credentials from his messenger bag and shoved them into the guard's face, "Dr. Spencer Reid from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI." Reid said jerking his bicep out of the guard's grasp, as the guard simultaneously dropped his hands and stood back. "I'm conducting an ongoing psychological intake interview with Christopher Keller, we had a meeting today…Warden Glynn should have notified you?" Reid spoke deliberately as if to ask if any of this information registered with the overly-forceful young man.

"Sorry, doc. He's all yours," He said undoing Keller's cuffs and shoving him into the cell. Before he left, the guard looked Reid over, "You sure got your work cut out for you."

Reid was about to call after the guard to tell him that he'd forgotten to leave a means for Reid to contact him or to allow him entry into Keller's cell. The latter, Reid thought, may not be such a misfortunate turn of events. This thought was only reinforced when Reid turned, beginning to ask Keller a question, and found himself staring at Keller who was now divested of his unlaced boots and white towel. As Reid sputtered, still staring, caught mid-question, Keller walked toward Reid, slipping his arms through the bars.

"He forgot that you're supposed to be in here with me," Keller smiled, crooking his middle and index finger and gesturing for Reid to come closer. "You're early but I'm not really complaining. Come here."

Reid hoped that the awkwardness of the situation only made it feel like he'd spent the last few minutes staring at the butterfly tattoo near the top of Keller's inner thigh, or the random droplets of water that were still sliding down his neck and chest. "I can come back when you're dressed," Reid said turning quickly, hoping that in reality his stare had only really been a momentary glance.

"And here I thought you'd be more fun coming off a weekend," Keller said continuing to stand at the bars, his elbows resting on the crossbar and his arms outstretched in the direction of Reid. "It's just skin, Spencer." Keller said as if speaking to a child, not-so-secretly pleased to finally know Reid's first name.

Reid whipped around on his heel without even thinking, "Dr. Reid!" He said sounding a great deal more flustered than he wanted to let on, his cheeks now glowing red. "Now would you get dressed?" Reid said regretting his tone and even more the fact that Keller had gotten him so agitated, so quickly.

"Why? After what I told you during our last meeting, you've already seen me more stripped down than this. What's the difference?" Keller said with a smile before gesturing again for Reid to come closer.

_Because this is like the beginning of really bad pornography_. Reid resisted the urge to vocalize that observation for many of the obvious reasons, "Because for once in your life you need to start thinking of something other than immediate gratification. The warden, hell, another guard comes down here and sees you like this, and me standing here…with your history…I'd be out the door and you on the table before we knew what hit us." Reid said immediately regretting his words when Keller's eyes narrowed and he took a step back.

Keller slipped on his gray pants, blue tank top, and light gray hooded sweatshirt, leaving it unzipped at the front. As Keller sat on his cot, slipping into his socks and boots, he mumbled, "A little late for that lecture now, Dr. Reid."

Reid shouldn't, but he could feel pangs of remorse creeping into his throat forming a lump that he tried to swallow before he spoke, "Chris, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Keller looked at Reid, his eyes empty of any emotion, "No, you're fuckin' right. I've let my dick do most of my thinking and when it wasn't running the show it was my anger – perpetually screwing or pissed off about something. You'd know, right?"

Reid took a step closer to the bars, putting one hand on the horizontal bar where Chris's elbow had been resting not long ago. "It doesn't matter, really? Doesn't it? I shouldn't have said that. I'll go and be back at eleven with someone who can at least leave me some sort of contact with the rest of this place."

Keller was up from the bed and his hand covering Reid's before he could pull away. "Now you're going to start being gentle with me? You're gonna start hiding behind your bullshit academic language and bleach-cleaned terms because, 'hey, you're just dealing with a corpse that hasn't hit the ground yet', is that right, Dr. Reid?"

"Chris, I'm sorry." Reid said not hesitating to look the older man in the eye.

Keller squeezed Reid's hand under his, "I've got Sr. Pete to cry over me for her failure, yet again, to stop another one of us from getting put to death. I don't need your fucking pity. I'm going to die, Spencer, and after what I tell you today you may just think I deserve it." Keller said looking at Reid, he gave a few dismissive pats to Reid's hand before letting go and stepping back. "Go get one of the hacks to give you what you need and I'll tell you everything you want to know." Keller sat down with a sigh on his unmade bed looking positively dejected.

Reid turned and headed up the metal stairs. _Just keep telling yourself, it's all a game. It's all a game._

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

When Reid returned with C.O. Supervisor, Ryan Murphy, Keller was hanging by the ledge in his cell, at the divot between where the metal bars met with the concrete, doing chin-ups. "Okay Keller, enough monkeying around." Murphy called. Keller let go of the ledge and stepped back, still refusing to acknowledge Reid.

Reid stood in the doorway of Keller's cell, his back to the same wall he'd been up against that previous week. "Alright, Dr. Reid," Murphy drawled in his thick New York accent, "here's the radio, I assume Mineo showed you how to use this," when Reid nodded in affirmative, Murphy continued. "Keller has a meeting with Sr. Pete at three so I'll be back down by then if I don't hear from you. Also, the lunch cart should be around by noon so if there is any trouble you can always alert the officer that will be accompanying the inmate delivering the trays," Murphy looked around the empty bank of cells, "Tray, I guess. Ya know, doctor, I'd like to say that Devlin's plan to empty Death Row has made our lives easier here in Oz but it really isn't true. All of Em. City is on edge. I had to call in the S.O.R.T. team over the weekend and Unit B is in perpetual lockdown with the rest of the prison to follow as the week comes to an end. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that Devlin's little stunt has made a lot of our lives miserable. Just my two cents," Murphy said with a wave of a hand. "I'll see you both at three if I don't hear from you, Dr. Reid."

Reid stood, again his back to the barred gate, as he watched Keller, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

Keller sat down at the head of his bed facing Reid. "You gonna stand there til three?"

"No, I think I'll spit my time between here and the other end of the gate." Reid said in partial sarcasm. _If Keller only knew how true that intention was…._Reid thought shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"No big file today? This mean you're almost rid of me?" Keller said smiling at Reid, "I think we're makin' progress though, doctor," Keller made a dramatic show of sitting on his hands, "I'm working on impulse control and you came to see me with less armor. I think Sr. Pete would call this a breakthrough."

Reid shifted on his feet again, feeling the cold ground burning through the soles of his flimsy loafers. "How many times were you married?"

Keller's eyebrows furrowed and he glared at Reid taken aback by the rapid topic change, "Three. Well, if we're being technical, I was married four times. I married Bonnie twice."

"You said you married Bonnie in Vegas the first time and then back here the second time so her parents could be there, right? Was she the first one you married?"

"Naw, first was Kitty….Kathleen, or something, to be honest I don't really remember. Anyhow, she probably wouldn't answer to that if you did call her by it – other than our wedding day I don't think I'd ever heard anyone call her by her given name. We knew each other from high school, she's the perfect blonde cheerleader type. I ran into her back in my hometown after getting out of Lardner. She'd just broken up with her high school boyfriend - football player, go figure - and she…well, what can I say, before I fuck 'em, I marry 'em," Chris said dismissively.

"Because you think that will keep them around, they won't leave like your mother did if you pull out all the stops and put a ring on their finger?" Reid said as if clarifying Keller's words.

"Shit, Reid! See this is why you gotta keep coming back." Keller stood up from the cot and headed in Reid's direction but stopped leaving Reid about a foot of space between them, "You keep coming back and maybe by the time they're ready to put me out of my misery, I'll have learned all of the things that caused it in the first place."

"Why did you divorce?" Reid asked.

"I met Bonnie. I'd taken my bike to the shore one afternoon just to get the fuck away from Kitty and her crazy shit and there was Bonnie, all alone. She looked miserable. She was sitting by herself on one of the benches just looking out at the ocean and sucking down that taffy-stuff that is so popular there. Anyway, I knew she wouldn't turn me down. Other than Beecher, I've never met an easier mark. Once I was free of Kitty and I'd told her I wanted us to get married.…she was up for anything, did anything I asked, and never asked questions when I was out late or had 'odd' friends around. Kitty was always crawling up my ass about Ronnie or one of the other guys coming by. Bonnie, she was the perfect little housewife and you could tell she fuckin' loved it, like she'd been waiting all her life for it. Though when the guys weren't around….she was wild." Keller said fondly as if sharing lurid stories over with a buddy over a beer.

"Then you divorced again?" Reid questioned looking quizzically at Keller who was still standing in front of him, watching amused as Reid shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Angie…Angelique. I met her on a job a year or so after marrying Bonnie. Angie was the daughter of this guy that my buddy was running a construction scam on. Her father owned a lot of old buildings downtown, kinda a slumlord, ya know? Anyhow the city'd forced him into cleaning up one of the buildings so my buddy got in on the bid. Of course, he underbid and found ways to soak it out of the guy even still…really piece of shit. Angie though, she's a sweetie. Things were fine with Bonnie. She made sure never to give me a moment's pause or regret for being with her. She was painfully insecure. I knew that wouldn't last, eventually she'd come to hate me, so I guess I beat her to the punch and left her first. I married Angie as soon as the divorce was final."

Reid didn't need to ask this time, just nod and continue writing as Keller elaborated on divorce number three.

"Angie got homesick, plain and simple. Her daddy, that scumfuck, always had way more influence over her than any man would ever have, so she went back home. Bonnie just happened to come around again. Even after all of the shit I'd pulled, she wanted me." Keller smiled slightly and shook his head," I divorced her, broke her heart, and she was the one telling me how sorry she was and how bad she'd been. I missed that. I missed her. I know it's fucked up, I knew it then, it's just…"

"It's just this time you wanted a woman who could be beaten out the front door and would still come back for you?" Reid said looking at Keller sincerely.

"Shit, yeah….I guess so. I never did hit her though…not one of them, ever. I can't stand that look a woman gets when she's afraid or upset with someone…physically, it makes me sick."

Reid nodded again in understanding. "I've been here long enough, I'm sure you know what I'll tell you is the cause of that."

Keller smiled ruefully at Reid, "My mother?" Keller asked with a tinge of disgust before turning and flopping down on his cot.

"Something like that," Reid said stopping himself before he launched into over-exposition about 'love maps' and developmental psychology.

Keller crossed his arms underneath his head. "You're a good teacher, Reid. You should give up this badge-and-gun shit and teach." When Reid smiled slightly, Keller sat up on his bed and turned to face Reid, putting his back up against the concrete wall, practically mirroring the position that had gotten Reid in so much trouble the week before. "This boss of yours sounds like a real shitheel. First, he lets you get kidnapped, you said, right? And then he serves you up on a silver platter hoping that while I'm busy salivatin' he'll get the confession he wants. You got any chicks on your team?"

Reid nodded, not bothering to try and refute Keller.

"Damn, man. I'd hate to see the assignments they got. What, he buy them each schoolgirl outfits and send them off to interview rapists and serial killers too?"

Reid tried hard not to laugh at the barrage of images that Keller's words had conjured, "they wear pants but yes, you're description is otherwise accurate."

"Otherwise accurate?" Keller parroted back to Reid mocking his tone filled with scholarly indignation. "What, that your boss is a shitheel? Sorry, I'll use the more academic term, sadist. Your boss is a sadist-shitheel that gets off sitting behind his big desk while he sends girls and…well, you – sorry, doc - to do the work he's probably better suited for. Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he's some balding fatty that couldn't run after a perp if he wanted to, and the girls, they work in government, they can't be that good-looking." Keller said with that same wicked grin spread across his face.

Reid had fought hard to suppress his laughter at Keller's characterization of Hotch but felt his cheeks flush red at the mention of JJ and the memory of his failed attempt, many years ago, to ask her out on a date.

"Ah," Keller said pointing and wiggling his finger playfully at Reid, still grinning from ear to ear, "I'd ask you which one you'd fucked but since we've already established that the head on top of your shoulders is the only head of yours that's seen any action.."

"I've never….I mean I'm not…oh forget it." Reid said putting his hand up in disgust.

Keller fought the urge to fall onto his side and roll on the small cot with laughter as Reid began to sputter.

Suddenly the grin on Keller's face disappear, "Which one should it have been?"

"I don't want to talk about it….but she's beautiful and you're completely wrong, not that such a fact would have stopped you from making these ludicrous accusations." Reid said glaring in Keller's direction.

Keller smiled as Reid glared at him, this time taking on the visage of a brother, more than a tormentor. "She may be beautiful but she's fuckin' stupid for turning you down."

"Whatever….she's married." Reid said resignedly.

Keller's wicked grin returned, "Well, if we've learned anything today, Dr. Spencer Reid, it's that marriage does end." He said winking at the younger man.

That was the first afternoon that Reid called for a guard and felt disappointed to see them come. The day's session had succeeded in making the impending Friday, just that much harder to acknowledge.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: WOW! Thank you for all of the reviews and new readership! Keller isn't the only one sitting on his hands trying not to give way to those deep, dark ideas. ;) I enjoyed all of the speculations and requests. I am still fumbling about when it comes to how we'll get to the end so who knows, some of those ideas may show up. And here I thought Reid would get out fairly unscathed, at least physically. Also thanks for your patience regarding the delay, I'm still trying to lengthen these chapters and with the added length comes added editing – which is always, a moderately successful task. Thanks again for all of the kind words, constructive criticism, and increased lurker-ship. **


	10. Hook

**WARNINGS: No, not really, just the usual language and criminal behavior.**

When Reid awoke that Tuesday morning his stomach was filled with knots. He'd spent the entire night trapped in a restless sleep, going over and over Keller's impending death, and Reid's fear that, unlike what he'd told Hotch, this would lead to a potentially perilous situation. Reid spent that morning typing up yesterday's meeting notes and wondering how long he could delay the day's visit.

Unsure of what possessed him, Reid decided to bring his lunch with him this time even though it was not likely that it would make it through security. If anyone could find a way to weaponize a turkey-and-cheese sandwich it would be an inmate in Oz, Reid thought with a laugh, stuffing the sandwich, apple, and a bottle of water in his messenger bag. Life would have been a hundred times more pleasant if Reid had been afforded the permission to bring his thermos of coffee but that was sp far from reality that it was laughable. Reid stowed the case file in his bag along with a fresh notepad and flicked off the lights to his room, hoping that he'd be returning before dark.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Keller sat in his cell struggling to occupy his thoughts. The lapses between Reid's visits had become almost painfully unbearable.

The kid had gone on about it to anyone who would listen, shootin' his mouth off so much that when Jaz Hoyt, a bike and fellow Death Row inmate, killed the ginger-kid he became convinced that the demons had found their way into him. Jaz spent the next month moaning and groaning about the pains the demons were giving him and it eventually paid off. Keller had seen some interesting attempts at an insanity defense, like Toby and his ridiculous patched together nursery rhymes comprised of half-forgotten song lyrics and his son and daughter's childhood books, no doubt.

Shirley Bellinger had gotten herself pregnant by, it was rumored, none other than Vernon Schillinger. Bellinger had been imprisoned because of her cold-blooded murder of her daughter who she'd drowned by driving her car into a lake and leaving her daughter to drown. Shirley told anyone who would listen that her daughter's death had been a mercy killing, a death sanctioned by God – her daughter, she claimed, had been possessed by Satan.

If Keller was still in the relative comfort of Em. City he would have laughed at all the 'Jesus talk' and continued his life the way it had gone just the day before; gym, Miss Sally's Schoolyard, and the petty dramas that swirled about Emerald City constantly. Toby had been all about God and The End and he'd sought counsel from anyone who would give it, especially the Imam Kareem Said. Keller hated Said only because of the attention that Toby gave to him in place of Keller. Toby wasn't a fag – he'd been married with two and a half kids before he'd gone and fucked things up. Said was all about getting him to focus on that rather than Keller. Keller offered no hope at redemption. From Death Row, with the hours growing shorter by the minute, the ginger, Bellinger, and Toby didn't seem so crazy.

_Fuck Beecher!_ Keller thought as he tossed his pillow onto the freshly made bed. _If that cocksucker even attempted to make contact, or try to come to see me die…. There aren't enough hacks in the entire state to keep me from killing him before they kill me. _Beecher had killed a little girl while driving drunk after several citations for other moving violations related to his propensity for the drink. _Beecher gets to grow old, see his grandchildren, see his children grow-up and grow old, and I get to die. He killed a fucking child and now he's free to fuck some school teacher and live happily ever after. _

Keller wanted to slam his fist into the concrete wall but knew that would only serve to leave him living his last seventy-two hours with an unbound broken hand. As Keller paced in his cell, rubbing his knuckles at the idea, he heard the familiar sound of boots coming down the hallway. Keller turned his back on the cell door and busied himself with leafing through the old magazines that he'd practically memorized.

"Keller, you've got until two today. Sr. Peter Marie and McManus want to talk to you regarding some of the details of your execution." Mineo said as he opened the barred door to Keller's cell.

Keller turned slowly avoiding Reid again when he looked directly at Officer Mineo, "Yeah, sure. Great." Keller said with a sarcastic smirk. Mineo looked toward Reid and handed off his radio before turning to leave the corridor completely.

Reid stood in the familiar corner between the foot of Keller's bed and the barred gate he'd just entered through.

Keller gestured toward the bed. "You can sit this time, Dr. Reid. Today I just feel like I can't fuckin' keep still. Damn, I miss being able to go to the gym," Keller crossed his arms over his chest, "it isn't so much a vanity thing as it is security," Keller chuckled to himself, "Toby found that out quick. It's kind fun to watch those soft men who've fucked up hugely, but completely randomly - I mean it isn't expected of them, not like me - and then they end up in Oz. Like Toby, going from a soft little drunken lawyer to well, what he is now I guess…whatever the hell that is." Keller shook his head and gave into the urge to continue his pacing around the small cell.

Reid could feel the hair on the back of his neck begin to prickle and his palms began to sweat as the present scene was a little too familiar to him.

Keller stopped in front of Reid and in two quick strides closed the distance between them. Instinctively, Reid clutched his messenger bag trying to put it between him and Keller. Keller extended a hand and Reid flinched involuntarily when Keller's hand came to rest at the side of his face. Reid held his breath as Keller's hand came in contact with his cheek.

"You haven't been sleeping, Dr. Reid." Keller said running his thumb under Reid's eye, tracing the dark outline underneath.

"No, I haven't. Have you?" Reid turned his head away but was surprised when Keller's hand didn't follow him or try to prevent him from moving in the first place. Keller's palm stayed turned toward Reid's face but remained at the distance that Reid had put between them.

Reid didn't want to risk a look at Keller's extended hand or how close he'd come. Reid held the radio clenched in one hand his bag pressed to his chest with the other. "The days are getting harder, aren't they?" Reid said gathering up his courage and looking into Keller's face.

"They sure as shit ain't gettin' any easier," Chris said his thoughts now occupied with Reid's messenger bag. "You brought a purse today, whatcha got in it? Somethin' cute to change into? School books and lunch money?" Chris rubbed his free hand over the blonde leather front, "When did they stop beating you up and taking your lunch money? You still get tripped walking down the halls of the FBI?" Keller said taking full advantage of Reid's indignation to pull the bag from Reid's grasp.

"So much for reigning in our actions and being conscious of impulse control," Reid yelped as Keller inadvertently pulled him forward as the bag's strap was still across Reid's shoulder and along his back. Reid dropped the radio to the floor as he struggled for purchase on his own bag, feeling himself come up off his feet as Keller pulled him closer. Keller looked down at the radio and kicked it across the floor, and temporarily out of Reid's grasp.

Keller slipped the strap from Reid's shoulder and held Reid back, his hand pressed flat against the young doctor's chest. Reid, caught up in the struggle, ignored Keller's palm pressed against his chest as he swiped at the air trying to retrieve his bag. Chris laughed at Reid's attempts before pushing him firmly up against the wall and transforming his smile into a dangerous glower in Reid's direction.

Keller tipped the bag over onto the bed to reveal its contents. Reid watched as a green apple rolled from the bag and stopped at Keller's pillow. The next things to come spilling out were Reid's new notebook and a photo that must have gotten snagged on its spiral binding. Reid watched Keller in shock and intense interest as he stood transfixed by the photo laying in the middle of his bed. There was Bryce Tibbots sprawled on Keller's cot; his face, arms, and torso badly bruised, his blue eyes wide as if holding a permanent charge of adrenaline, and finally his neck, black and blue and pointing at an unnatural angle.

Chris's eye nearly matched the grotesque photograph – wide, disbelieving, and charged with adrenaline. Keller stared at the photo transfixed, letting his hand fall away from Reid's chest. Keller stepped toward the bed as if a coiled snake were perched on his cot and ready to strike him if he moved too quickly. Keller approached the picture with an air of caution, slowly picking it up off the bed before he sat down on the cot – his eyes still wide with shock.

When Reid was certain of Keller's distraction he crossed over to the sink and retrieved the radio that had been kicked there just minutes ago. Reid turned back around quickly when he heard Keller shift position on the bed, Reid resuming his position just at the opposite side of the room –wedged between the sink and barred gate.

It felt like they'd been in this position for hours, Reid standing at attention in the corner, watching as Keller sat transfixed with the aftermath of his interactions with Tibbots. "I don't know how you do it, Reid," Keller mumbled, eyes still tied to the photo in his hands.

"Likewise," Reid said wishing he could swallow the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"I never had to see him like this," Keller almost sounded remorseful and then with a deep breath, Keller straightened his posture and turned to Reid, "When I killed Barlog and Winthrop it was out of necessity. Winthrop and his buddy were sent to Oz together, they'd raped and beat up some girl. Adam, Franklin's buddy, got assigned to Beecher because, I guess, Beecher knew the kid or their families went to the same country club or some shit. Beecher sold him out to Vern Schillinger to get assigned mail duty, for Death Row, to see me. Vern and his Nazi-fucks put those two through the same shit Beecher went through, and probably worse. I can't say they didn't get what they deserved," Keller picked up the discarded photo, "they're not the only ones though."

"What happened?" Reid said quietly, almost in a placating tone as if he were encouraging a child.

"You want some reason why I did this?" Keller hit the paper, causing the glossy photo to pop in his hands. "I've told you everything, Dr. Reid. You know more about me than I think anyone ever has, even Toby. I killed Winthrop for revenge and Ronnie because of his betrayal to Agent Taylor – I wasn't afraid to die then, you can't be afraid of death in Oz, it's everywhere. I was afraid of spending whatever time I had left without Beecher. Ronnie stood in the way of being with Beecher, so bitch gotta die." Keller's voice took on a rough edge.

Reid walked toward Keller and stood in front of him, well within arm's reach. "What was he standing in the way of?" Reid said, his finger curling over the picture and pointing down and Bryce's broken form.

"Getting Vern Schillinger out from under my fucking skin," Keller said quietly, still staring at the photo. "When he cried, when he fought back…"Keller stopped, roughly grinding his clenched fists into his watering eyes. "You don't smoke do you, Dr. Reid?"

"No," Reid said sitting down on the cot next to Keller but being sure to keep his distance.

"You should start," Keller chuckled ruefully, "the year before I came to Oz they banned smoking and conjugal visits…another brilliant move on the part of that scumfuck Devlin. Up in Em. City or gen. pop., if you knew the right person, or could do the right favor, you could get pretty much anything – cigarettes were still in Oz," Keller chuckled sincerely, turning to Reid with that familiar mischievous, yet harmless, grin. "No fucking and certainly no cigarette after."

Reid had felt his senses dull over the past week. Keller's colorful language and the blood chilling looks that often accompanied it had lost its initial shock. Reid glanced down at the crime scene photo that was now set between them like some insurmountable barrier, which Reid hoped, would be strong enough to keep Keller at a distance.

Keller's eyes followed in the same direction, right back to the photograph, "Ronnie'd asked me why I'd robbed that liquor store and gotten myself stuck in here. I told him I needed some time off the streets."

"You wanted to come to Oz?" Reid questioned.

"I wanted someone to make me stop. I knew I wasn't going to. I was using even more when this," Keller said finally flipping the photograph over. "When I did that, I'd just take more to forget it. Coke is great for that, it makes you numb to it – you think you're fucking invincible and any flaws you may have, they don't matter."

Reid had caught himself leaning forward to hear Keller's words as his voice grew quiet and slowly dropped off, but when Keller's eyes came up to Reid's face, Reid quickly corrected his posture. "You needed it," Reid said, his voice devoid of judgment, "after the second kill, your technique evolved rapidly. The bodies show deeper bruising, more defined wound patterns, and the final blow is cleaner. You'd found just what was needed for you to take to gain gratification and unlike the first victim, you left them exposed in fairly high traffic areas. You wanted someone to see you…"Reid stopped open-mouthed when Keller interrupted him.

"I wouldn't have stopped. I wanted this thing inside of me dead and it just grew stronger with each of them," Keller said without a hint of malice in his tone. "I shoulda been dead long before this."

Keller paused for a moment before looking toward Reid, "I think you've got what you came for, doctor. I won't be seeing you anymore after this," Keller made a show of listening and feigning a look down the hall, "you don't got any other stars to interview in line, it looks like I'm the last for now," Keller paused looking into Reid's face, marveling at the smooth lines and bright eyes that didn't even begin to betray the young man's experience, "What's it like?"

Reid tilted his head but before he could ask, "What's it like for this to be routine for you? I mean, to me my experiences they're filled with all kinds of highs," Keller's voice lightened as if he'd just taken a hit and was passing it along to Reid, "and then there are lows, and you know," He said his voice deepening, taking on a serious tone as his chin dropped to rest on his chest, "the lows, for me, felt pretty fuckin' bad. You see this shit every day, it's constantly low, what's that like?" Now it was Keller's turn to look wide-eyed and curious as he looked up at Reid for the answer.

"Usually something good comes out of the situation; a child is saved, a murder solved and a family is able to find peace, and," Reid stopped measuring his words carefully, "and tormentors, murderers, and sadists receive some kind of justice."

Keller heaved a resigned sigh, "Some? What do you do about the ones you can't save and the ones you're just a moment too late for?"

Now it was Reid's turn to sigh heavily with resignation, "We've all struggled with that, everyone on my team – a few of them left. I stay because…"_Because if I didn't I'd go crazy, I've seen enough and heard enough to fuel several lifetimes with nightly terrors and running away from the few people in the world who understand that experience..that'd be the end. _"I stay because it means I can try again and maybe next time prevent it from happening again."

"Though you always need bodies for that to happen don't you, someone has to suffer for you to even be aware? Do you really prevent anything? You guys like your databases, I'm sure my family name has shown up in there more than once…why didn't you prevent this?" Keller kept his voice light and conversational as he held Reid's eyes.

"I wish I could have, believe me, I really do." Reid said feeling stunted and dull for not being able to come up with something more, his speech reflecting the sense of inadequacy that rushed him.

"Don't let them send you on anymore ugly assignments, go back to the classroom," Keller extended his hand cautiously and laid it warmly on Reid's shoulder, "you're too sweet to waste on a stray bullet from a psychopath. You deserve to be safe." Keller rubbed at Reid's shoulder, secretly pleased when he felt the doctor jerk away slightly and then correct himself with a shiver.

When Keller inched closer and opening his mouth again to speak, he was interrupted by Mineo, "Alright Keller, back up!" Mineo had his nightstick at the ready as he unlocked and entered Keller's cell. Keller held both of his hand up in surrender. Reid turned quickly and scooped up the rest of his belongings, exiting the cell in as much haste as his shaking legs would allow.

"Goodbye, Chris." Reid said with a hesitant nod in Keller's direction.

"If you were anyone else, Dr. Reid, I'd say 'see ya later' but I know this is the last time you'll have to be down this low." Keller said with a half-hearted smile. "Goodbye."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: No panicking, I repeat, do not panic this is not the end. LOL. Though we are closing in on it aren't we? I'd say we have about two chapters left. All of your lovely reviews and constructive critiques have given me a lot to think about! I apologize for the lag in updates. I've started a new job and it's been picking up steam pretty quickly. However, that is why God made weekends, right? Yeah, sure it is. I'm sure that's written somewhere…and thou shalt rest on the seventh day to write slash. **

**Speaking of slash, I was under the impression that any story that featured a m/m relationship was considered slash, am I mistaken? Must there be sexual content for a story to be considered slash? That's not to say that I will, or will not, include things in the next two chapters but for future reference for this newbie…how do you define it or how have you seen it defined?**

**I can't thank you enough for all of the suggestions, critiques, and positive remarks I've received. Thank you to all of the new readers who decided to take a chance on an unknown series and to the lurkers whose numbers are felt and deeply appreciated. Update soon to follow sometime this weekend…or early Monday depending on your time zone. ;) **


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**WARNING: All of the things I mention in the disclaimers in the first chapter, yeah, here they are. Too explicit a warning will undoubtedly spoil some plot points so I will ask that you read through the warnings on the first chapters and some of the suggestions in the reviews…if any of these thing may possibly trigger you or cause irreparable damage, please turn back now. Spoilers for the entirety of Oz and the CM episodes: '3rd Life', 'Fear and Loathing,' and 'Revelations.'**

Reid returned to his hotel room with a worrisome feeling of numbness at his unexpected release. He'd planned on stay until Wednesday night at least. He wasn't sure what else he expected to gain from his interview with Keller – he'd gotten the information on his childhood, the confessions to the other murders, and plenty of material to build a fulsome psychological profile. Reid could hear their last conversation still rattling around in his head. _I couldn't stop. Why didn't you stop me? Some? Maybe? You need bodies before you can stop someone, who are you really saving?_

Keller had hit a nerve with that last one. Those words had kicked down the door that held back the memories of those crime scene photos – the girls in the leaves. As Keller spoke, Reid was lost in his own thoughts of those lifeless and terrified girls dumped in the leaves for them to find. He could hear Morgan's voice in his head, commiserating with Reid on the nightmares of the job. Morgan too had found himself filled with terror after a boastful comment – just need one more body to crack the case. The next day Morgan got the missing piece he'd asked for, a dead young female that seemed to stare up at him when he arrived on the scene. Morgan had told Reid about his night terrors, seeing those eyes looking up at him, demanding to know why she had to make the sacrifice. Keller had demanded the same thing from Reid – why couldn't you have made it stop?

Reid knew that his remorse and regret were illogical and misplaced. There was no way that Reid could have stopped Keller, he'd said it himself in his oh-so-eloquent way, Reid had been getting shoved around the halls of a Las Vegas high school not tracking down serial murderers when Keller had been active. Yet he couldn't fault Keller for his anger at the entire situation. Keller, like a lot of men in Oz, had faced an upward battle from the very beginning. Reid was perpetually thankful for his mother that even through her illness she put her emphasis on development of Spencer's mind. Reid was fortunate that his studies came as second nature to him especially since it was his mother, Diana, who had taught him to read while other children were still mastering the art of going diaperless.

Keller was a lot of things but stupid was not one of them. Yes, his verbiage left a lot to be desired but the sheer waste of the situation made Reid angry. Keller deserved to be punished for his crimes but what was an adequate punishment for a teenage robber? Certainly, being repeatedly beaten and sodomized by the likes of Vernon Schillinger was not even in the realm of equity or justice. Reid stopped himself before he talked his way into excusing Keller completely because Bryce Tibbots and the other victims certainly didn't benefit from Reid's revisionist view of Keller's history. Debating the semantics of 'choice' really did nothing for Reid's state of mind either. Keller could have chosen not to pick up those young men. Keller could have chosen to own up to his sexuality instead of scamming and murdering his way through men and women.

The moral relativism, the desire to excuse Keller from his brutal dispatch of Barlog and Winthrop, was not in Reid's nature either. He'd gotten himself in plenty of hot water before with misplaced sympathies and putting his own desired outcome over his and the teams safety. Reid thoughts came back to Hotch and his infrequent, yet glaring, manipulation of the rules.

Reid began gathering his room together as the numbness dissipated into anger and sadness. Keller had been so convinced that he'd seen Hell and felt the fire licking at his skin when he died on that operating room table. Reid didn't doubt that Keller put stock in that experience but why it held any more importance than any other anesthesia-induced dream was beyond him. Keller's last thoughts would, no doubt, be filled with agony but his brain would die quickly and his body would grow cold, any Hell that Keller would experience would be in those last few moments before death. Reid bit back his desire to tell Keller that he had nothing to fear – he'd already been through Hell. Hell was being in the clutches of Schillinger, loving someone and having them betray you, addiction, and the indescribable pain that he would suffer toward the end of his life.

As Reid packed his suitcase he chastised himself for not talking to Chris before he went to McManus and Sr. Peter Marie to make his decision on how he was to die. Warden Glynn had adopted a strange sense of democracy by letting the prisoners select which way they would like to die – any way they wanted to die. However, the options had been reduced to two after a Death Row inmate had stalled his own execution with a court battle over his right to die by being stoned to death. Keller would be given two options: lethal injection or the electric chair, and neither option were particularly humane or painless.

A common misconception regarding lethal injection was that it was a fairly painless venture. Keller would be administered a series of drugs; a tranquilizer or anesthetic which gave the illusion of unconsciousness to the viewers of the execution, and because it was next to impossible to titrate a dose that would accomplish the desired effect, many States would over or under administer the drug. Improper administration of the first drug would result in muscle paralysis but would not yield unconsciousness nor a reduction in pain. The second drug would eat at Keller's muscles and eventually stop his heart. Physicians were barred from developing any countrywide protocols for this means of execution due to the Hippocratic Oath – first, do no harm. Keller would be at the whim of an executioner hired by the Warden and paid under the table for their services. It was likely that Dr. Nathan would be prescribing the doses to be administered to Keller but again that could get her stripped of her license and livelihood. If she chose to participate she would be paid off the record and her anonymity protected by the Warden. Reid shook his head in disgust at the irony of the situation – murdering a murderer and protecting and those involved in the commission of his death. Keller had committed his first known murder in the process of a robbery, a murder for financial gain. The corrections officer and prison doctor too would be reaping financial gain from Keller's death. Either way, it was a death that resulted in illegally garnered funds.

Reid slammed his suitcase closed and zipped it shut. He was relieved that Keller had insisted upon his absence – the overwhelming feeling of helpless and sadness at watching anyone die was something Reid wasn't sure he could manage again. He'd tried desperately to plead for the life of an UnSub, a teenager, who was responsible for the kidnapping and torture of two young girls. The surviving girl's father had arrived minutes before Reid and when Reid found the three of them in a high school bathroom the avenging father was standing over the UnSub with a shotgun. It was not Reid's place to determine who deserved to die, that was the mind frame of those he sought not the mind frame needed for those who hoped to catch them. Whatever had led up to that point in the high school bathroom was irrelevant – Reid and the victimized daughter had been forced to witness another horrific murder of a child. Reid took no comfort in that sort of justice.

Christopher Keller's name would just join that long list in Reid's mind of those he felt an empathetic connection with but were beyond his intervention; Tobias Hankel, Owen, Nathan, Adam, and several others. As Reid looked over his belongings he was glad to be leaving in the coming morning.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

The sun had barely risen in the sky when Reid's bedside phone began to ring.

"Spencer Reid," He croaked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up in bed.

"Dr. Reid, I'm sorry to call you at this hour. My name is Fr. Raymond Mukada , I'm the chaplain here at Oz. I'm calling regarding your interview with Christopher Keller." Fr. Mukada's voice sounded shaky and uncertain.

"I completed the interview yesterday, Father. Is there something I can help you with?" Reid said still in a state of confusion and the beginnings of a splitting headache that he knew would eased as soon as he could get his hands on some caffeine.

"Yes, that's why I am calling you. After his meeting with McManus and Sr. Pete yesterday, I went to see Keller during his evening meal. Dr. Reid, Sr. Pete refuses to speak to Keller regarding spiritual matters due to…"Fr. Ray stopped himself before he betrayed a confidence and then resumed his explanation speaking in the hurried tone that Reid had previously seemed to have a patent on. "She won't see him, Dr. Reid. When I spoke to Keller yesterday he told me that he'd confessed to you…I'm worried about him, Dr. Reid. I don't know how to convey my concerns to you without betraying his confession but I think your counsel would help him greatly. He's refused to see anyone who could possibly resemble family or comfort to him. I know as a member of law enforcement you're probably less than concerned with the last days of a Death Row inmate but you're the last person I could think of to call. Please come back today before you leave for Quantico, it could do more good than I think you or I may realize." Fr. Ray let out a sigh as he waited for the reaction that he'd come to know as the standard. Tobias Beecher had been cordial enough but quickly lost patience when Keller's name was mentioned and quickly found a way to extricate himself from the conversation.

"I'll let you make the justifications to Warden Glynn, Fr. Mukada. I'll be there if the warden approves my visitor's pass." Reid hung up the phone and immediately felt like he'd been hit in the stomach. He'd welcomed the promise of the long drive back and the familiarity of Quantico. Reid never looked forward to stepping foot in Oz but this visit had him particularly dreading his time within those gray walls. He'd been running through Chris's case and punishment since he'd walked out the gate yesterday afternoon, and facing the man in question saddened him as much as it worried him.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Father Ray had been waiting at the front desk to greet Dr. Reid and thank him profusely for his change of heart in regards to Keller. Reid didn't want to tell Fr. Ray that he really had no idea why he was there or what good it would do but he figured that if he could provide some sort of peace it was the least that Keller deserved. Reid tried to silence the voice inside him that chastised him for his thinking. _Bryce didn't have someone to hold his hand as he died and Beecher would have lost everything if Keller's plan had gone through. _Reid knew what it was like to be small and powerless at the hands of those who had no concept of empathy or mercy and Keller had spent most of his life, despite his physical size, being small and powerless to various forms of authority and cruel displays of power. Reid could do nothing about Tibbots or Beecher or any of his other victims but he could do whatever it was that Fr. Ray thought needed to be done.

Fr. Ray had left Reid with an unfamiliar guard who led Reid to Death Row. When Reid entered the corridor and looked into Keller's cell he felt as though he should hear his stomach hit the concrete floor along with the sound of their heavy footfalls. Keller was sitting on his cot with his back to the cell door, tearing out pages in a magazine and picking at the food on his morning tray. Everything in the corridor, in Chris's cell, was still the same – the same gray stillness. Everything was the same except Keller's thin dark hair had been replaced by a freshly shaved head. Reid felt his eyes stinging as the implications hit him like slap to the face.

"Back so soon," Keller mumbled, barely audible. "Fine, you can fuckin' have it then," Keller flung the half full tray at the cell gate. Reid sprung back, an errant pancake missing him by inches. As Reid leapt back, the guard standing next to him sprung forward, unlocking the gate and storming into Keller's cell, baton ready to strike.

"Keller, you fuck!" The guard's rapid advance drew Keller off the bed ready to take a swing at the young guard's face.

Reid came to his senses fast enough to rush into the cell behind the guard, fast enough to throw himself between the baton and Keller's fist. Keller hauled Reid out of the way when the guard's baton slashed just a hair from his face. Reid shrugged Keller's grip from his shoulder and stepped into the guard's face – his credentials withdrawn and forced into the guard's view. "Thank you for your assistance but I don't think I'll need you here for the conclusion of this interview, as you've already proven yourself to be more of a liability than anything that could be construed as remotely helpful to my purposes here."

The guard looked them both over before turning on his heel and leaving Keller's cell, slamming the barred gate closed behind him – leaving Reid without a means of communication or promise of return. Reid would have panicked if he hadn't spent the last two weeks in this situation – he knew the various buzzers and bells by heart. He knew that lunch would be coming in a matter of hours and a C.O. would be along sometime before that. Fr. Ray knew he was down here and was undoubtedly going to check in as well.

Keller's brow darkened as he looked Reid over incredulously before taking a step toward Reid and closing the distance between them. Before Reid could react or pull away, he wrapped his arms around Reid in a nearly crushing embrace. "There is some law about cruel and unusual punishment, right?" Keller asked his eyes pressed into Reid's shoulder.

Reid didn't answer just struggled to absorb the situation, trying is best to think of a way to extricate himself without angering Keller and finding himself thrown up against the bars like a reconstituted pancake. Reid settled for resting his hands at Keller's waist and applying light pressure to loosen the hug or put a little distance between them but Keller didn't budge. "I don't really care how they do it, I just wish they'd do it already," Keller let out a shaky breath that ran across Reid's neck as Chris raised his head from Reid's shoulder. "McManus is probably in the Glynn's office now telling him what I told them yesterday. I told them that I'd confessed to those murders that Agent Taylor had been doggin' me for," Keller pulled back just enough so that his lips were just breath away from Reid's ear, "That'll piss Glynn off enough that he'll give me what I want," Keller paused pulling back to look at Reid, "or that fuck will move it up to Monday."

Dr. Reid hadn't give up on appling pressure with each of his hands to Keller's waist to try and move him back further.

"You smell good, you know that?" Keller's voice had grown husky with emotion and need.

"Last clean shirt," Reid said quickly pulling back and succeeding in putting enough distance between them so that he was now staring into those blue eyes that had sent a shiver down his spine just weeks ago, though this time they were not menacing or cutting but filled with a dark sadness. Reid swallowed the long pause and began to speak at his nervously rapid pace,"Fr. Mukada sent me, please Chris. Don't do this. This isn't why I'm here. Fr. Mukada said you wouldn't talk to anyone else and that you were even confrontational with him."

Keller let go of Reid and turned back to his bed, "You're here to give me spiritual counsel now, Dr. Reid?"

Reid took a step toward Keller, began to extend his hand toward Keller's shoulder before thinking better of it and putting his hand in his pants pocket instead. "Chris, why…what..why did you do that to your hair?" The emotion and waver in Reid's voice betrayed him.

"Aw, come on, Dr. Reid," Keller said turning around and bringing his hand to pick at a strand of Reid's short tousled hair. "You got all of that schoolin' and you mean to tell me you don't know what this means?"

Reid looked up at Keller's hand and tried to pull away only to have the offending hand to come to rest solidly at the back of Reid's neck, Keller's fingertips toying and lightly pulling at the perfectly shaped hair at the base of Reid's head. Reid didn't pull back this time, Keller's crimes flashing brightly in his mind. "Yes," Reid said looking at Keller trying to not let his discomfort with the whole situation bleed through into his answer. "Yes, I know what this means. What I don't know is why you would make that choice?"

Keller's hand slipped up into Reid's hair, gripping slightly and releasing to comb his fingers through the short sandy blonde locks, "Better than letting some hack scalp me tomorrow - I'm sure they'd be fightin' for the chance."

Before Keller could continue, Reid interrupted, "Chris, you need to let go of me."

Keller drew closer to the younger man, his fingers all the while combing through hair on the back of Reid's head. Keller pressed himself to Reid, resting his forehead against Reid's, "Now it's my turn to ask why, Dr. Reid?"

Reid cleared his throat and looked into Keller's icy blue eyes, "I want you to tell me why you decided on electrocution?"

Keller swallowed and smiled that wide mischievous grin at Reid as he ran his fingertips through Reid's hair one last time before letting his fingertips play at the skin on Reid's neck and around his collar, "These goose bumps tell me that you're interested in something other than that," Keller gently cupped the back of Reid's neck, moving his mouth back to Reid's ear, "we've got a few hours, you don't really want me to stop do you?"

Reid yanked his head back and pressed his hands to Keller's shoulders, "I already know what you can accomplish in a few hours, no thank you." Reid pushed back before Keller's hand caught the hair at the back of Reid's head this time in a forceful clenched fist.

"Then you also know that I don't take no for an answer," Chris said pulling Reid's mouth teasingly close to his.

"Fr. Mukada told me that he tried to contact your ex wives," Reid took in a nervous breath, "and Tobias Beecher, trying to get someone to come and see you today."

Keller pulled back, a confused frown clouding his face, "I told you I didn't want them here. Fr. Ray getting in on the torture now too? What the fuck did I ever do to him?"

Reid cringed when Keller's grip tightened on his hair as his voice became threatening and he looked at Reid with a suspect glare, "Why are you here?"

Reid swallowed and looked at Keller, "You said it yourself, you've never had someone be there out of sincerity, it's all been a con, some Ponzi scheme, you felt you had to manipulate someone into being there for you. You told me that you've never been this candid with anyone and I believe you," Reid attempted to pull away and Keller gave Reid some slack, enough to distance himself from Keller's lips. "I'm here because Fr. Mukada asked me to come back. I wanted to come back. I'll be with you on Friday."

As soon as Reid completed that sentence Keller's grip tightened on Reid's hair, holding Reid's head tightly in position. Before Reid could bring his hands up to defend himself Keller landed a head-ringing slap to Reid's face. In the shock of it all, Reid had bitten his lip and could taste the bitter copper of blood in his mouth, "You don't want to do this, Chris. I'm not your mother and I'm not one of your ex-wives, hurting me will not chase me away. You need someone there," Reid said looking up at Keller trying to fill his stare with boldness and not the fear that was coursing through his body. When Reid tasted blood and heard the familiar sound of his neck popping, a habit he'd taken to when he was tired but that held an entirely different significance in this situation, it took as of his self-control not to panic, not to show Chris the fear that only would intensify Keller's desire.

In a fluid and seemingly effortless movement, Keller grabbed Reid and pushed him against the back wall of his cell, his body crashing up against Reid as soon as Reid's body hit the wall. Keller's lips pressing hot and insistent against Reid's neck and ear, "You're wrong, Reid…Spencer, I've wanted to do this since I rounded the corner of the meeting room." Keller used his superior weight and muscle to keep Reid in place while he brought a hand to Reid's tie and pulled the knot loose, opening the buttons on his collar and bringing his teeth immediately to the exposed skin, forgoing any sweetness and biting down hard causing Reid to cry out. Keller could feel Reid tensing and squirming underneath him neither action serving to deter him from savoring the feeling of Reid's rapid pulse under his lips or the taste of Reid's clean sweet skin. When Keller did finally release his bruising grip on Reid's neck he looked at his work pleased, that same predatory smile consuming his face.

Keller licked along the fresh indentation on Reid's neck, pressing his arousal into Reid's still struggling body, "You're wrong, boy genius. I think we'll both end up enjoying this. "As one of Keller's hands busied itself with undoing the buttons on Reid's vest and shirt, the other was busy pulling the offending garments from Reid to expose more pale unmarked flesh. When Keller's teeth sunk into Reid's shoulder to leave another bite-shaped bruise, Reid choked out a cry and forced himself to speak, "If you think killing me will keep them from sending a few thousand volts through your body in the next few days you're seriously mistaken."

Keller sunk his teeth into the exposed flesh at the top of Reid's chest, biting down hard to leave another circular bruise behind, "You know me well enough by now, doc, to know that I'd do is just because it would feel so good to have that slender neck of yours under my fingers," Keller brought a hand up to Reid's throat, pressing his palm down hard enough to shorten Reid's breathing, "your screams and that little whine you make at the back of your throat when I do this," Keller licked over the bruise forming on Reid's shoulder – the perfect shape of an open-mouthed kiss, "and to feel you clamp down on my cock when I bring off, your cum dripping all over my sheets." Keller nipped and licked at Reid's ear as he felt him squirming, pushing at Keller's shoulders to gain some distance. Keller stepped back far enough to pull Reid's vest and shirt from his body and discard them on the floor.

Keller looked down at Reid's form fitting black slacks, the thin leather belt around his waist, and the Chuck Taylors that betrayed Reid's otherwise professional appearance. Reid had dressed for the drive back not to adhere to the dress-code advisories of Oz. Keller's fingers went to make quick work of the belt and the buttons and zipper of Reid's slacks quickly followed after.

Reid was frozen in terror. If he fought back, he knew given Keller's candidness during their interview, and having looked over the case file, that this would not deter Keller. All of the victims had evidence that they'd fought back; there had been bruises in the shape of handprints, Keller's handprints, and other signs of struggle lining their bodies. Even still, Reid couldn't help the seemingly automatic reaction to Keller's advances. Reid clawed at Keller's shoulders, pushed against his chest, and closed his eyes as he pushed on the yellowing bruise on Keller's side. The last move had Keller groaning in pain and pressing his flattened palm down harder on Reid's throat.

After Keller had undone Reid's pants and let them fall to the floor, he raked his nails down Reid's chest with his newly unoccupied hand, watching Reid squirm like a beetle on its back struggling to be righted. Angry red lines streaked from the bruises on Reid's shoulders to the top of Reid's boxers. Keller raked his hands over Reid's torso several times, enjoying the whimpers that escaped Reid's lips as he continued to struggle to free himself from Keller's grasp. Reid pressed his hand to the yellow outline of the bruise that had been at Keller's temple which only antagonized Keller's actions. Chris raked a rough bitten nail over one of Reid's exposed nipple, smiling when Reid cried out again. Reid's hand dropped away from Keller's temple when Chris took the pink nub between his nails and bore down hard. Reid cried out. It felt as though Keller was threatening to pierce that vulnerable piece of pink skin with his unrelenting pressure.

"Please, Chris." Reid said hoping to draw Keller's eyes to his face. Keller's grip slowly dropped away, revealing a more excruciating pain as the blood rushed back to the tortured piece of flesh. Reid cried out in fear when Keller's hand traveled over to the other side of Reid's chest and gently began to manipulate the neglected nub of skin. "You won't be happy until everyone hates you as much as you hate yourself." Reid panted out trying to ignore the conflicting burn of anxiety and arousal that was churning in his stomach.

Keller's brow darkened as he took the aroused peak and pressed it tightly between his nails, all the while increasing his pressure on Reid's throat. Keller brought his mouth to Reid's lips, kissing him deeply and in a move that caused Reid's knees to liquefy; Keller inhaled taking the breath from Reid's lungs. Keller pressed his hips into Reid's, enjoying the feeling of Reid's weak arousal pressing against his straining, dripping cock. Keller removed his hand from Reid's throat when he finally pulled back from the kiss and gave Reid some distance.

Reid coughed and gasped, falling to the floor to pull up his pants and if need be, crawl away from Keller and to the cell gate to beg for escape. Keller watched Reid slowly struggle to regain his composure and began inching toward the gate with the misplaced hope that he'd attain his freedom. Keller stood back swiftly removing his blue tank, kicking his unlaced boots off his feet, and sliding his gray pants from his hips. Keller had neglected underwear that day which left him standing in front of Reid nude. Reid was almost to the gate, he struggled to his feet, but before he could gain his balance, Keller's hand had found its way back into Reid's hair and pulled him in front of him on his knees.

Keller stroked himself as he looked down at Reid's face which was lost in a mix of fear and disgust at the situation. The terror coming off of Reid was like a sweet aphrodisiac to Chris's senses. Keller released his grip on his cock to cup Reid's cheek. "Beecher gained quiet the reputation when he bit off the tip of an Aryan's dick." Reid's eyes widened at the implication.

Reid gave up on trying to pull his pants back up to his waist and instead began to claw at the sensitive and exposed flesh of Keller's thighs. Keller pulled his hand back and slapped Reid hard across the face. Reid's eyes tightened and he felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his head, and the corridor, echoed from the slap. Chris gave him no time to recover before placing a finger on either side of Reid's nose and pinching it closed. In no time Reid was gasping for breath, his fingers digging into Keller's thighs as Keller forced himself into Reid's mouth, burying himself to the hilt in one swift movement. The tears that Reid had tried to suppress ran down his cheek readily, his nose running, and mouth salivating as Keller slowly pulled himself from Reid mouth, leaving the tip of his cock resting against the tip of Reid's tongue before thrusting back in.

Keller moaned letting his head fall back as he held on tightly to Reid's locks and thrust forward. "Oh fuck! That mouth of yours, Spencer! I'd like to know who taught you so well. That's boss who delivered you into my hands?" When Keller felt Reid's teeth scrape him in response, Chris pulled back, dragging Reid over to the bed. Chris didn't give Reid any time to struggle to his feet before grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip and planting him face-first into the cot mattress. Keller used one hand to hold Reid to the mattress by the scruff of his neck and the other to roughly stroke Reid's weak erection. Keller moved closer to Reid pressing his spit-slicked cock to Reid's ass.

Reid was able to scream out the first sounds of a cry for help before Keller forced his face back into the mattress. The temptation to enter Reid, to fuck him senseless, and then work to bring the still struggling doctor to his own release…Keller knew if he started now it would all be over too soon. If the schedule the hacks had been keeping lately was any indicator, he had plenty of time to linger and enjoy the young man pinned beneath him. Instead, Keller made good on his earlier promise, marking Reid's shoulders and back with deep painful indentations of his teeth.

Keller worked his way over Reid body, finding new and sensitive places to grab and manipulate in order to gain Reid's submission. The sounds coming from the weakly struggling Reid were a mix of wet sobs and confused cries of pleasure and pain.

"You can still stop," Reid whispered unsure if Keller would hear him, "don't do this," he pleaded a little louder as Keller's tongue found its way to his most intimate of places. "You can stop. I won't tell anyone. I'll do what I was doing before," Reid pleas were now loud enough that they rang out against the cement walls of the cell. Reid cringed as he heard the words echoing in his ears, reverberating in his head like the blows to his face before. He'd heard all of those pleas before from the victims they tried to save and the ones they failed to save. He knew what he sounded like, he sounded like a victim, again, and that realization was even more painful than the jolts of pleasure that were now coursing through him as he felt Chris's tongue enter him.

Keller's firm grip on Reid's now earnest arousal kept him compliant as Keller continued his ministration. Reid's sob turned to a moan of desperation as Keller pulled away from him and turned Reid over to face him. Spencer's face was flushed and streaked with tears, his torso splotchy and red, marked with deep scratches and already darkening bruises.

Chris unlaced and discarded Reid's shoes, socks, and bunched up black slacks. Reid managed to land a weak kick to Chris's stomach and a heel to the yellow bruise on Chris's side. Reid closed his eyes as he threw his feet in Keller's direction knowing that another brain-rattling blow would be soon to follow. Instead of retaliating Chris stuck his hand under the head of the mattress and revealed a small bottle of lotion. Keller used his right knee to pin Reid leg, grabbing Reid's left leg and holding it to his chest, skillfully popping the lid open on the bottle of lotion and squeezing a generous amount onto his palm. Reid's efforts to escape gained a new wave of momentum when he felt Keller's finger pressing at his entrance. "P-please," Reid whimpered, his mind devoid of any useful verbal jab that might deter Keller, "I'll do whatever you want, just don't do this."

A wicked smile crept across Keller's face as he pressed the offending digit forward and watched Reid's eyes squeeze shut from the pain and then moments later burst open when Keller crooked his finger inside him making Reid's arousal twitch. After a few more twists and swipes across that place that had Reid practically coming up off the mattress, Keller pressed his body down on top of Reid, his word came out panting and barely restrained against Reid's ear, "I want you, there isn't anything else." Reid cried out in response as Keller removed the digit only to add two in its place.

"You can stop this, Chris. I know you can," Reid shuddered and begged through waves of pleasure and pain that seemed to increase when Keller added yet another finger inside of him. "Show me the mercy you wanted Schillinger to show you at Lardner so many years ago. Chris, you're hurting me."

Keller pulled his fingers back from Reid and looked down at the young doctor in a mix of confusion and amusement. Chris came to rest on top of Reid again, allowing their arousals to align, moving his hips slowly as he spoke, "You beg so beautifully, Spencer. You've spent too much time with that nose of yours in books. You really think this is what he did to me?" Keller's thrusts slowly picked up speed and Keller suppressed a growl in the back of his throat before continuing on, "Remember, I've seen what you look at all day. I know you can't actually think that this is what happened. I don't want to hurt you, Spencer." Keller said kissing Reid's forehead, temple, and then nipping at his ear, "relax, Reid. It will hurt a lot less if you do."

Keller took his lotion-slick cock and pressed it to Reid's entrance. Reid fought the urge to close his eyes and looked at Keller straight on, hoping that his fear or some level of humanity would emerge and stop him. "The pain will go away," Chris said as he thrust forward, feeling Reid clench down and then quickly relent as the aching burn overwhelmed him.

"Help!" Reid cried out, "Please, Chris. Please stop. Don't do this. Please, you're hurting me." Reid clawed at Keller, and desperately tried to exploit any advantage that he thought might remove the older man from him quickly.

"Sssh, be a good boy and don't do that again," Chris cooed in Reid's ear as he held still allowing Reid time to adjust to the intrusion. When Reid tried to force Keller from his body, Keller took that as a sign to move forward, thrusting slowly into the young doctor as he cried out, still half-heartedly struggling to escape Keller's slow and deep thrusts.

Reid gave up trying to find a pressure point or some other painful place to make Keller relent and instead gripped Keller's shoulders trying to transfer the slowly dissipating pain to the older man. Chris brought his hand between their bodies and began to slowly tease Reid's flagging erection back to life. When Reid raised his left leg in an attempt to kick at Keller, or shove him off his body, Keller took the opportunity to plunge deeper into Reid, repeatedly grazing over that sensitive spot that had Reid's erection dripping into Keller's hand after what seemed like just moments of teasing.

Keller's speed increased as he felt Reid's erection twitch and throb in his fist. Spencer tried desperately to suppress his whines and moans of pleasure in the back of his throat as Keller's grip tightened and his fist slid quickly over Reid's arousal. Reid clamped his eyes shut as he felt awash in shame and embarrassment at the familiar warmth uncoiling in his stomach and threatening to burst through the rest of his body. Keller smiled before moving down to claim Reid's mouth in the first kiss that had Spencer yielding to his desire. Reid writhed underneath Keller, his hips involuntarily moving in time with Keller's fist, trying to gain his impending release.

Reid hesitant yet willing mouth and the way he was moving against Keller had him already teetering on the edge. Keller froze inside of Reid when Reid arched up to meet his last thrust, his eyes still clamped shut, "Spencer, come on, open your eyes." Reid whimpered, eyes shut tightly, still trying to gain some kind of tension, pressure, oh god, anything, he was so close.

"Still want me to stop, Dr. Reid?" Keller asked innocently as if they were still back in that gray meeting room, head cupped in his hands. Reid's head thrashed on the mattress as he lifted his hips into Keller's stilled fist. Keller removed his hand and brought it to Reid's throat instead. "I want you to ask me for it," Keller gave a shallow thrust, "I want you to tell me that you want this," one more slow thrust inside Reid as Keller increased the pressure of his palm on Reid's throat, "I want you to beg, Spencer. I want you begging so loudly and sweetly that everyone in the whole damn place can hear what a slut was hiding behind that badge and geeky little vest." Keller punctuated his request by returning to his original pace, just long enough to have Reid writhing underneath him, the words threatening to spill from his mouth.

Keller pressed down just a little more on Reid's throat, enough to have him struggling to draw shallow breathes. "Or you don't have to cum, I guess."

Reid could feel his face burning red with shame and desperation. When he opened his eyes he found himself lost in the darkening blue gaze of the older man above him. "Please," Reid whispered looking away from Keller's face. Keller released his grip on Reid's throat long enough take Reid's chin in his fingers and gently turn his face toward him, "Please," Reid begged looking into the blue abyss, "Please, Chris, please let me cum."

Keller groaned before capturing Reid's mouth again in a bruising kiss as he began again at an unflagging pace as he made good on his promise and took Reid's aching arousal back into his fist, matching each stroke that he made inside the young man. It didn't take long before Reid was clawing at Keller again, his hips meeting each of Keller's movements, and little whimpered cries escaping his mouth as the pressure began to build between them.

Chris looked pleased, smiling wickedly, as he resumed his quickening pace. Keller could feel his on release baring down on him but he made sure that Spencer was the first to cum, shaking and clinging to Keller as ropes of sticky fluid coated their stomachs and chests. Reid's orgasm was enough to push Keller over the edge, biting down on an unmarked piece of Reid's shoulder, Keller let out a long and satisfied groan as he came inside the younger man.

As Keller fought to regain his composure, he placed light and gentle kisses all over Reid's flushed face. Keller buried his nose in the crook of Reid's shoulder, inhaling the scent of spice and clean sweat. As Keller was lost in his own post-coital bliss, he felt the young man beneath him begin to shiver again. Keller pulled back to see tears coursing down the young man's face. "Please, Chris, please let me go now."

Keller pulled back from the younger man, looking down at the shaken Dr. Reid, "Let's get you cleaned up first." Keller got up and grabbed a clean white towel from a peg by the sink and soaked half of it with warm water. Reid sat up slowly wincing in pain, his entire body stinging from the bruises and scratches that Keller had left behind. Chris returned to the bed to wipe the sweat and stickiness from Reid's body, his touch proving to be gentle and attentive. When Reid shifted his sitting position and put his back to Keller to put on his pants, Reid felt an unexpected soft kiss to his bruised shoulder.

"I don't want you coming back here, Reid. Do you hear me? I want you to forget about me just as quickly as these bruises fade.," Keller pressed another kiss to Reid's shoulder before pulling them both to their feet. Keller held Reid steady as he pulled his pants up to his waist. "Say it, Reid. Tell me you won't come back here."

"I-I-I can't let you do that alone." Reid said his voice a jumble of pain, fear, and sadness at the re-emergence of this sickening eventuality.

"Yeah," Chris said, before pulling Reid to him for another slow, lingering kiss. "Yeah, you can."

Keller said looking gravely into Reid's reddened and tired green eyes. Reid took it as a sign of affection that Keller's hand once again came to cup his cheek, supporting his jaw. Keller pulled his head back and instead of speaking another word, brought his forehead crashing down on the bridge of Reid's nose. Before Reid could even cry out in pain, Keller's fist came in contact with the side of Reid's head.

The last thing Reid would remember would be those ice blue eyes and an explosion of stars before his vision went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So we're drawing to a close soon, I suppose. I had completely different plans for these last two chapters but after reading your oh-so-helpful and delightfully suggestive reviews, I decided to veer a little from the plan. Besides, I wasn't really looking forward to writing the chapter that was planned anyhow. This was a first for me, writing something that didn't fade to black as soon as it became overtly sexual so hopefully it didn't come off as awkward as I felt (LOL). Your thoughts, critiques, and suggestions are always welcome and greatly appreciated. Thank you one and all for your continued readership and thoughtful contributions. You'll be hearing from in the next few days. **


	12. Sinker

It was the sound of women's heeled shoes hitting the linoleum floor and the incessant beeping and chirping that had Spencer Reid's head throbbing in time with their sounds. Each clack and each beep set off a painful reverberation in his aching brain. Despite the pain, Reid tried his best to open his swollen eyes and when he caught sight of the IV in his arm, just below a black and blue that encircled his forearm, his fingers fumbled at the tape trying to rip the offending needle from his veins. Reid struggled to come to a sitting position, to move himself up and out of the hospital bed that he'd been occupying for…Reid looked up at the clock but groaned in frustration when it appeared as nothing more than a blurry black and white circle. The lack of light in Reid's room had him panicking and struggling for purchase on the sheet, mattress, bed railings, anything to get him out of the bed and back into his clothes.

Derek Morgan turned when he heard a low frustrated and pain-filled groan, only to find Reid trying to work his way out of bed as he tried to dislodge his IV. Morgan went quickly to the bed with a nurse, roughly half Morgan's height, trailing closely behind at Morgan's heels.

"Woah! Reid, stop. "Morgan placed gentle yet firm hand on Reid's chest trying to ease him into a prone position on the hospital bed. Reid cried out as Morgan's hand applied a steady pressure to the bruises and abrasions that covered his pectoral muscles. Morgan lessened the pressure to Reid's chest but kept his hand hovering lightly on Reid's skin as a reminder.

"Dr. Reid," The slight female nurse spoke, her voice soft and reassuring, "Dr. Reid, you need to lie back. When you got to us no one could give us an honest or clear estimate of how long you'd been out. We're keeping you for observation until the doctor clears you of any risks for a hemorrhage or concussion."

Reid looked at the younger nurse; a woman just a few years Reid's junior, dressed in colorful scrubs, her brown hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail, and a soft round face that seemed to exude comfort and kindness. Reid felt his bottom lip begin to quiver as he asked his next question, "What time is it?"

The nurse looked over at Morgan who had come to rest in the chair at Reid's bedside, "Reid," Morgan spoke softly, "It's almost Friday morning," Morgan took a deep breath, covering Reid's hand with his, "It's over, Reid."

"No," Reid said weakly, "No, no." Reid began to rise again, looking around the room frantically, feeling his brain ache with every movement as if it were water sloshing about in a glass. Reluctantly, Reid allowed the nurse and Morgan to lower him back into bed, "I-it was, it wasn't supposed to happen…"Reid could feel his eyes burning as he heard Keller's voice pushing through the cloudiness of his memory; his taunting yell at Dr. Nathan in hospital that day, his derision of the guards, and his hatred for Devlin.

Reid fumbled for his bed remote, picked it up, and pointed his shaking hand toward the old television suspended in the corner of the room. After flipping through two soap operas Reid came upon a news station. A shot of the exterior of Oz flashed on the screen before a small, balding man stood before the camera, Governor James Devlin:

"_There will always be bleeding heart liberals and capital punishment abolitionists here outside the gates of Oz screaming about justice for these murderers and rapists. Christopher Keller had been convicted of several murders, both inside Oswald and before his incarceration. He had been meeting regularly with a member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and it is my understanding that he confessed to many more unsolved murders before his brutal attack on that agent. Keller had also been a suspect for the orchestration of the kidnapping and murder of two inmates' children. The bottom line is that Keller was a danger to anyone unfortunate enough to come in contact with him – days before his assault on the FBI agent, he'd been responsible for the assault on a well-respected Corrections Officer here at Oswald, an assault that also led to that man's hospitalization," The camera panned back to the protesters, who were now engaged with a group of counter-protesters, yelling, screaming and waving their banners in each other's faces. _

_The camera then came back to Devlin whose face was a barely concealed rictus of disgust and frustration. _

_As soon as Devlin registered that the focus had returned to him he ran his hand over what hair he had left and continued to speak, "Christopher Keller was as much a danger to society as he was to the inmates and staff, and that is why I stand behind Warden Glynn in his decision put an end to this threat by moving up the time of Keller's execution."_

"_Some call your aggressive stance…"_

Reid turned off the television and turned onto his side, staring at the IV in his arm.

Morgan remained silent, biting back his desire to curse when Reid's gown was pulled to the side revealing the dark bruises that covered Reid's shoulders and back. Morgan waited a few beats before trying to draw Reid's focus to the present, "Reid, will you talk to me?" Morgan asked sounding calm and sympathetic.

"He got what he wanted," Reid mumbled.

Morgan felt his insides grow cold as his mind sprung to the possible meanings of Reid's statement, "You mean..."

"I mean," Reid said turning over with a sharp intake of breath, hoping that Morgan would mistake his watery eyes as a reaction to the aches and pains running through his body, "he didn't want me there. I'd gotten a call from the chaplain and he'd asked me to come and talk to Keller regarding," Reid paused and shook his head lightly and then pushed himself up on the bed as he hit the remote to raise the head of the bed. He pulled at his gown self-consciously trying to cover the smattering of bruises on his neck and shoulders, "I don't know. Ch-", Reid caught himself and fidgeted with the neck of the gown, "Keller had told me, practically every time we met, that he didn't want anyone there and he didn't want to wait. I guess this was his means to that end." Reid closed his eyes not wanting to see the disgust or anger that he feared would be lining Morgan's face.

"Reid, look at me." Morgan asked, trying to keep his voice devoid of anger or frustration, "I know you might not be ready to but you need to try and tell me what happened."

Reid ran his hand over his face; feeling the small metal guard and padding over his nose, the swelling under his eyes, the small cut at the side of his lip where he'd bitten down sometime during…Reid dropped his hand to his side and tried to draw his knees up to his chest but stopped when he felt a shock of pain run up from his tailbone to the base of his skull. Instead, Reid settled for pulling the blanket up over the sheet that had been covering him and staring in the direction of the television. "Who found me?"

"The chaplain had come down approximately three hours after the guest log shows that you'd checked into Oswald," Morgan put his hand on the bed wishing that he could offer some sort of comfort to Reid but suspecting that physical contact would probably be the least helpful. "Why were you alone?"

"The guard left," Reid said feeling the cold set into his veins at the memory.

Morgan was seething with anger but tried to contain it, even still, his next question came out deep and laced with emotion, "Why?"

Reid looked around the room when his eyes caught the over-the-bed table and the hooded dinner tray sitting there untouched, "Pancakes."

"What?" Morgan asked feeling a touch of humor entering the situation.

Reid's heart began to race as his mind went back to that morning, entering the cold gray corridor and seeing Keller sitting on his cot, his back to them both, ripping up a magazine and toying with his food. "He didn't turn around. He just threw the tray at the bars…pancakes," Reid paused, he could hear the sound of the barred door slamming shut behind him, the heavy footfalls of the guard angrily leaving the corridor. _Gee, Pete, time for my last meal already?_

Reid cringed, "Morgan, what did they do to me while I was out? I want to see my chart, hand me my chart." Reid's voice was full of anxiety.

Morgan looked directly into Reid's eyes, trying to reach him through the panic, "So he threw the tray at you and the guard and so the guard locked you in with him and left? That makes no sense, Reid."

Reid let out a sigh of resignation, "It was my fault," Morgan began to interject but Reid shook his head slowly, "the guard rushed in, somehow I ended up between them with my credentials in the guard's face. I just couldn't…" Reid choked on his words, he knew even before he started that he was pleading his case to the wrong audience. He knew he'd sound like one of the inhabitants of Em. City if he began rambling on about the various guards; their allegiances to the racially divided gangs, how some guards were not trustworthy, how they carried out vendettas on behalf of the other inmates, and how Keller was still covered with bruises from his last run-in with wrong side of a nightstick and the asshole C.O. holding it.

Derek Morgan had watched Reid grow up in the BAU and he knew that look well. Reid's argument formation and calculations played across his face as if it were possible to watch those ideas in their very infancy before they came in a rambling roll off the doctor's tongue. Morgan too was temporarily absorbed in his own calculation; it wasn't more than an hour to Oswald from the hospital, his credentials would earn him his visitors pass under the guise of the on-going investigation into the administrative negligence that could have led to the death of a Federal agent, and the final piece of the puzzle would be finding that guard and a darkened stairwell accommodating enough for the beating he was just itching to hand out to the man in question.

"I think I understand, Reid." Derek said finally, "Hotch gave me a copy of your daily reports before I came up here," Derek shook his head, "I know he thought you'd get the most information out of Keller given the limited time we had to work with but…Reid, do you remember what happened next?"

"I want to see my chart, hand me my chart, please." Reid tried not to sound as frantic as he felt. If he'd been out, or at the very least, couldn't remember the last almost twenty-four hours, he knew what they could have done in the time between his blackout and waking up that day. Reid looked over Derek finally, "How did they find me?"

"Fr. Mukada and the guard accompanying him found you. You were lying on Keller's bed, your clothes appeared to have been removed and then you'd been re-dressed – your vest and shirt were both missing buttons and had been re-buttoned…" Morgan hated the next words that were about to come out of his mouth, "your shirt looked as though Keller had been the one to re-dress you, skew in their alignment and the missing buttons seemed to lead to the conclusion...Reid, what happened?"

"Morgan," Reid groaned.

"No, Reid. Don't 'Morgan' me. You can tell me or you can do this with Hotch in preparation for your meeting with IA, Glynn, and Devlin. Reid he could have killed you." Morgan said emphatically, scooting his chair closer to Reid's bed.

"Where was he?" Reid whispered, "When they found me, where was Keller?"

Morgan pursed his lips and took a deep breath before answering Reid, "He was sitting on the floor next to the bed."

Morgan watched Reid in confusion as the younger man struggled to keep his plaintive gaze disguised as a reaction to the constant aches and pains that he must feel with each of his movement. Reid let the blanket and sheet fall away from his torso, "Morgan, you don't need me to tell you what happened," Reid said looking over the bruises on his wrists and arms as he spoke, "What did they do while I was out?"

"The…your…the injuries you sustained and the state of your clothing," Morgan looked at Reid dead on but Reid evaded his gaze and settled for worrying the sheet between his fingers, "Reid, they ran an SAE kit after they conducted your CAT scan…Reid did he rape you?"

"No!" Reid said without hesitation, trying to sit up further filled with renewed determination to get out of the damned hospital bed and back on his way home – he just wanted to be back at his apartment and away from all of this.

"Reid," Morgan moved closer trying to keep Reid's hands from attempting to dislodge his IV, "Reid, the evidence they collected…Reid, you can't mean that with all of this," Morgan gestured at the bruises on Reid's arms and throat, "that it was consensual?"

"I don't mean to imply anything," Reid said glaring angrily at Morgan. "Keller's dead, what does it matter? Devlin going to dig him up and punish him for this?"

"Listen, Reid," Morgan moved forward and put his hand over Reid's. "Hotch has already taken the step to put you on leave for the next month. He's arranged with Rossi for you to incorporate college-recruitment seminars with Rossi's book dates, you'll end in California…didn't you go to school out there?"

"Yeah," Reid said with a sigh.

"Talk to me," Morgan said giving Reid's hand a gentle squeeze, "Tell me rather than having to face IA and tell this to Strauss and Devlin. No one blames you, Reid. You said it yourself, he locked you in there after you intervened in his attempt to exert excessive force, and it's that simple."

_You're too sweet for this badge-and-gun shit, you should be safe and in the classroom._

Keller had gotten what he wanted; he ultimately controlled the hour of his death, he'd made sure Reid was unable to attend his final moments, and Reid would be back in the classroom and away from the UnSubs that Keller knew so well.

Of everything though, Keller had gotten what he wanted from Reid, leaving him to dangle like a fish on a hook.

**A/N: My apologies for taking so long to post this final chapter. I really appreciate all of your comments and constructive criticism regarding this story. Hopefully, in the near future, I will be able to incorporate all of your suggested edits to make an even tighter and well-formed read. Thanks to all of the new readers and lurker-ship, your presence is felt every time I check my email and joyfully discover another alert or 'favorite'. **

**The job is now in full swing so this may be it for awhile but not for too long because DarknessIsTheUniverse in her infinite musing ability has already set me on the path for another potential story. Who knows, maybe you'll see something in the future regarding the end of Rossi's book tour, their shared college-recruitment efforts, and a chance meeting in a San Francisco bookshop. Just maybe ;-) **


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